South Carolina A Patriot's story
by lininlix
Summary: Benjamin Martin's oldest daughter, Lucy, a firery tempered 17 year old gets cought up in the War after being captured by the famous Butcher, William Tavington who holds her against her will. Only then dose she realize where her loyalties lie...
1. The Plantation

South Carolina, 1776

It was just another ordinary day for Lucy Martin. The warm sun was shining over the Martin families South Carolina plantation. Lucy's brother's playful screams could be heard from the fields outside, while Lucy nursed her youngest sister Susan in a wicker chair on the porch outside the house, she watched carefully as her middle sister, Margaret, tried to teach the youngest boy, William, his alphabet. She looked around, taking in just how lucky they were living in a place like this, there were no troubles or confusion and most defiantly, there was no war. That was all there was for Lucy. Life outside the plantation didn't exist, as far as she was concerned there was no war…but how wrong she was.

Lucy had just got Susan to go to sleep in her arms after of hours of cradling her. This seemed to happen almost every day. Ever since their mother died Lucy has had to act as the mother figure to her 7 siblings. She was the oldest but one out of their family, Gabriel was the oldest and he and Lucy were more alike than any of her other siblings within the family. They grew up together and as soon as the next Martin came along, Thomas, they realized how much alike they were. Lucy shared Gabriel's colouring; she had bright blue eyes and curly blond hair, and a temper to match. She was even more out spoken than Gabriel, and prided herself of this quality, however her father did not.

It had been just over three years since their mother had died; Gabriel, Thomas and her were able to cope pretty well, or as well as to be expected considering their loss. They all just got on with life, Gabriel and Thomas helped to work the fields and Lucy would help out in the kitchen etc. So over all life was good. She had helped to raise the others and could still remember when each was born after Thomas. Nathan, Margaret, Samuel, William and then Susan. They had all turned out as well as she had hoped, considering that Father locked himself in his study or had become obsessed with work. Lucy felt as though this had the greatest effect on Susan for she has never uttered a word to this day.

Susan was now nearly 4 and she still had restless nights dreaming of what the others could only guess was of their mother. They all dreamed of her from time to time, but Lucy had a tendency of putting her mother to the back of her mind and just getting on with the hear and now. Her father, although never said, was proud of Lucy. She had been able to be strong for the rest of the family and had taken on more than any other 17 year old.

Lucy's father, Benjamin Martin, had often complained that she should be married by now and not tending to the others as she did. True marriage was on the horizon for Lucy, after her father had invited the new young doctor around many times. His name was John Porter. As soon as he had first come to the plantation he was smitten with Lucy, as with many of the other young bachelors who her father had invited over, one of which was Gabriel's close friend, Peter Cuppin. Lucy had no intention of marrying until Susan was a lot older and didn't need her so much. She had made this clear to Benjamin many times before, but he would only argue more, but would give up as soon as Lucy started arguing back. He used to say that she would die a spinster, because no man would have her with her temper. This however suited Lucy, she would only marry someone if that person accepted her for herself, and John Porter was not one of those men. John had not yet asked Lucy to marry him but she knew that he would do it soon. And she knew that she would have to turn him down.

As Lucy felt Susan move in her arms, she was jolted back to reality. Margaret was still teaching William, Nathan and Samuel were still planting the fields and Thomas and Gabriel were out hunting. As she lifted herself out of the chair, careful not to wake Susan as she moved, she crossed the garden to the barn where her father was working on yet another failed rocking chair. Benjamin noticed Lucy when she walked in and placed Susan down on the hay with her rag doll, he stopped what he was doing and asked with a smug grin,

"So, when is Dr. Porter coming?"

Lucy didn't reply to this for she knew that her father had again invited him round for lunch. She slipped out of the barn door quietly and began walking back to the house where she would begin making the afternoons lunch.

"Hey…Lucy!"

She was again jolted out of thought, she looked up and her eyes rested on the post rider who was at the front of the house, waving to her. It was Oliver James. His father was the owner of another plantation and Oliver had always had a soft spot for Lucy, and her for him, but he was always too much of a dreamer.

"Just brought Mr Martins mail…"

Oh great, he was after a conversation Lucy thought.

"I have a lot to do" she said "Would you like to follow me in to the kitchen so we can talk?" on an after thought, as not to upset him.

Of course Lucy had no intention on talking with him in the kitchen, and had only offered knowing that he would refuse. And refuse he did.

Lucy watched him go through the gates to the plantation with Nathan and Samuel running behind him while he galloped on his young horse. Just as he left, Lucy was eagerly pushed aside by Thomas who appeared to have run from nowhere, clutching two dead pheasants tied at their feet. A quick sorry was mumbled from him as he reached the table in father's study where a pile of neatly wrapped letters lay. He was about to grab them when Gabriel also panting, burst in and said,

"Thomas, wait for father"

And with that Gabriel smiled at me and pushed another pheasant in to my hands, while turning and locking away his and Thomas' rifles in the wall cupboard. Thomas was left only staring at the table until Gabriel pulled him out of the room.

When Lucy finally made it into the kitchen, Abigail the housemaid was already kneading a fresh loaf of bread on the table. She didn't hear Lucy come into the kitchen, so she jumped when Lucy threw down the pheasants that her brothers had brought on to the table and sighed.

"What's the matter child?"

Abigail asked in concern for me. I looked to her once I sat down and gave her a frustrated look.

"If your worrying over that Dr Porter, he sent a message over that he can't make it, and that he's sorry but the reverends wife has a cold or something".

With that my heart leapt, I also gave a slight laugh at the thought of old reverend Dixon's wife with a little cold. I was not in the mood for John Porters company today, nor any day for that matter.

"I'll have to tell him soon, Abigail…"

As my thoughts came back to the young doctor.

"I know child, and you will in time."

As she went back to pummelling the lump of dough that lay before her. That was a sign that our conversation was over. I liked Abigail very much, maybe even loved her for the concern that she felt for me. But I also knew how to read her, she was not a very subtle women. I smiled and got up, feeling a lot better than what I did before. I would go into fathers study and get a book to read and sit in the garden for a bit.

As I entered father's study I let my hand brush over the pile of letters that were lying on the side table. I knew not to open them, but I really wanted to. I let my hand linger for too long because I was suddenly disturbed by the stern,

"Hmm, Hmm"

Coming from my father who was resting against the doorframe. I felt my cheeks redden in the situation, so I slowly turned away and made my way to the bookcase. I picked up the closest book to me and ran out of the room and away from my fathers penetrating stare. I went and sat in the garden where I read for what seemed like hours.

I picked a good book considering how I had to get it, some modern American loyalist author and that was the first thing that put ideas of war in to my head. It was only when my father stood on the porch looking out in to the garden that he saw me and yelled for me to come in for dinner. I obeyed immediately and ran in to the house.

At dinner I hardly spoke. I was tossing the ideas of war about in my mind, what I had read had disgusted me. How could and American just sit in his home and wait for it to be taken over by the English. I realized how patriotic I was being, and thought about the post instead.

Dinner took forever, and once it was finished I helped Abigail put the children to bed as Thomas and Gabriel sat downstairs with father. Thomas playing with his tin soldiers on the floor and Gabriel sitting by the fire reading. After a while I came down stairs and found a seat in fathers study and continued reading with my own book. When father moved towards his little table that held the week's mail, he had 3 pairs of eyes watching him. Benjamin noticed this and deliberately turned around to pour himself a drink. Thomas, Gabriel and I all shot each other disappointed looks and that was when father shouted,

"So, what was in the mail?"

At that moment all three of Benjamin's children dived for the table. Thomas was the first and pulled the ribbon free. Both Gabriel and I made a dive for the newspaper but Gabriel won. It was then that Thomas thrust a letter in to my father's hand. Benjamin read it carefully and announced,

"I've been called to Charles Town."

This took a moment to register, but when it did all three of us said in unison,

"We're going to Charles Town?"

Benjamin laughed at our enthusiasm then, sighed and nodded his head,

"We leave in the morning."

Happiness over took me; we were going to see Aunt Charlotte! We were going to Charles Town…tomorrow.


	2. Charles Town

South Carolina- a patriot's story

Chapter 2

As my father led the front carriage thorough the famous docks of Charles Town, my brother Gabriel gave me a troublesome look as he raced passed me on his horse to catch up with the second carriage, which held the rest of our family. I stayed at the rear, behind the others so that I could marvel at the ships in the docks. My horse, Opal, trotted along contently but as soon as he saw Gabriel and his horse Cleo race in front he jolted forward, only to be slowed down by my increased grip on his reign.

I couldn't believe the size of the numerous ships that shadowed our little party. There hung hundreds of American flags from, not only the ship poles but from the tops of the houses on the other side of the dock. As we continued our journey to our Aunt's house, there were numerous men who shouted welcome to my father and tilted their hats to Gabriel, and me, who was again riding level with me.

The city was buzzing with excitement as we went past the main square. There were preparations being made for the evening's events. Gabriel had been over excited when he heard that a certain gentleman from Pembroke was speaking in the following meeting. And with this gentleman, would come his daughter. Anne Howard. Gabriel had been sweet on her since he was 11 years old; he however had once put ink in her tea and had made sure that she knew it was him. This resulted in a little falling out for a while, but tonight Gabriel was sure that she would forgive him and let him back into her good books.

After what seemed like hours riding we finally arrived at Aunt Charlotte's house. She was waiting on her porch for us as her house slaves greeted us warmly. The younger children were the first to jump of their carriage and run up to meet their aunt who was waiting with open arms for them. Once Gabriel had swung of his horse, he came around to my side and helped me down from Opal. I gave Opal an appreciated pat on his main before going to join the others with our aunt.

As I climbed the wooded steps I heard my brothers and sisters all shouting what seemed to be,

"Presents!"

Before all running to the house and trying to all at once trying to fit through the small door. Father was next and told Gabriel and Thomas to look after the others. With permission they also ran for the door pushing Benjamin in to Charlotte. I let out a small giggle at the sight, for we all knew that our father was desperately in love with his late wives sister, although we all had sense enough not to say anything.

Realizing how embarrassing this was for Charlotte, Benjamin stepped back, allowing for Charlotte to step to Abigail who was carrying Susan in her arms.

"This is for you, Susan. It was your mothers."

Susan took the porcelain doll that was handed to her and held it tight to her chest, cherishing it. Charlotte gave a questioning look towards my father when Abigail and Susan had also gone in to the house.

"Is she still not talking?"

There was no reply from my father, so I stepped forward making my presence known. I smiled weakly at my aunt, and surprisingly she stepped forward and embraced me in to her arms. My father took leave and disappeared so that my aunt and I could talk.

"How have you been?" She asked me lovingly

"Fine…" I replied whilst nodding to prove the point. This satisfied her thirst and she lead me in to the house, closing the front door behind her. Inside the house was exactly the way I remembered it from when I was younger, welcoming and warm. There were numerous pieces of art that scattered the walls in the hall and I took great pleasure in studying them in turn.

As I was rapped up in my own perfect world, Gabriel came in to the hall, put his arm around my shoulders and lead me in to the nearest sitting room. There were the rest of my family, all chattering away loudly and having a merry time. All I wanted to do was to sit somewhere quiet and read my book. It was then that I remembered the ideas that had only yesterday, consumed most of my day, it was then that I had an idea of my own…and I braved asking father,

"Father…" he looked up, "Could I go with you and the others to the meeting tomorrow?"

Benjamin looked rather taken back, why would Lucy want to concern herself with the issues of war? Gabriel and Thomas' eagerness to go was understandable because they had always had an interest in warfare, but Lucy…she probably didn't even know that there was a war on. But he realized that if he forbid her to go, then she would only want to go all the more to spite him. What could he do?

"Of course you can come, if you really want to."

As he said this, Lucy's face lit up, and it was then that he first suspected that she was up to something.

Later on that night when it got dark, the children were standing on one of the top baloneys to the house with their father looking down in to the large crowd that had gathered in the town square.

"Look…" Nathan said, pointing in to the crowd, "There's Gabriel!"

It was when the others spotted him that they started in a chorus of shouting his name.

Gabriel looked up to the house and saw his family. He gave a little wave accompanied with a fake smile, before turning back and once again frantically scanning the crowd for he had done the one thing that his father had told him not to. Gabriel had lost his sister in the crowds.

He looked all around but still he could not find Lucy. It was then that two scarecrows were being hoisted in to the air wearing the red British uniforms. The scarecrows appeared to have been hung and were now on fire! He pondered on how they had got hold of the uniforms whilst he gazed in to the fire. It was then that he heard the distant shouting of a man. He followed his voice.

To Gabriel's pleasure he saw that the rambling old man was in fact Mr Howard, Anne's father! He crossed the crowd over to them.

"I lost most of my hearing and my one leg fighting for the king in the French and Indian War, and how dose King George repay us? He cuts off my other leg with his taxes!"

There was a lot of angry murmuring within the crowd. Gabriel looked around once again, frantic to find the girl. But whom he found was Lucy. He raced over to her and grabbed her arm pulling her with him.

"What are you doing, Gabriel?" I shouted trying to get him to loosen his grip on my arm, when he didn't Lucy stopped dead in her tracts and pulled. Gabriel came to a halt and turned around facing Lucy.

"A woman should not be listening to such things!" He was not angry, only thankful that he had found his sister. Lucy rolled her eyes before answering,

"I can listen to whoever I want, and besides, I met Anne Howard in the crowd and she told me that her father was speaking, so I came to listen."

Lucy lifted her chin high and stared at her brother. But Gabriel was looking over Lucy to something just behind her. Lucy noticed this and turned also to see what he was looking at. She saw Anne with her mother about 10 yards away looking at Mr Howard. Lucy sighed and looked back to Gabriel. He was still looking at Anne. Lucy took hold of her brother's face and pulled his head beck down to look at her.

"Go and talk to her, you'll never get anywhere just looking at her. I'm going back to the house so you don't have to look after me. OK."

Gabriel didn't answer so Lucy just left him standing in the middle of the crowd and went back to the house where she went straight to sleep, dreaming of what would happen tomorrow.

In the morning Lucy was woken up by Susan who was trying to get in to Lucy's bed with her. Lucy gave Susan a loving hug before putting her down on the bed. Lucy then lifted herself out of bed and began to get ready. About 10 minutes later Abigail bustled in to Lucy's room to wake her, but found her already up and dressed. This was not unusual for Lucy, for she always liked getting herself ready, although because she was going to this meeting, she permitted Abigail to braid her hair for her. Abigail did a wonderful job, as always. When Lucy was convinced that she was ready she walked downstairs to meet the others.

Once breakfast was over with and we had all said good bye to the others, Father, Charlotte, Gabriel, Thomas and I all made our way to the town hall where the meeting was taking place.

"To our first order of business…"

"And our last if we vote a levy"

There was a great cheer after this. The room was filled with mostly men, rich men at that and all they seemed to do was argue with each other. It was then that Harry Bowman stood up. He was an officer in the continental army and had fought with our father in the French and Indian War. He held much respect within the room for it went completely when he stood up.

"You all know why I am here…"

He said calmly,

"I am a solider and we are at war. I will not try and convince anyone of the worthiness of our course, but the British have marched on Philadelphia and taken the city. I ask that South Carolina joins our force of 9 colonies…"

But he was broken of by a stubby man in the audience.

"Mascetuesses and Virginia may be at war…but South Carolina is NOT!"

Mr Wilkins was in the crowd and was the first to shout his approval. Coronal Bowman continued,

"This is not the independence of one or two colonies, but for the independence of one nation..."

Again he was cut of by Mr Wilkins, who everyone knew supported the British,

"Yes, and what nation is that?"

He asks in a cocky tone. Although Coronal Bowman was unable to answer because of Mr Howard standing up and stating that all the colonies were part of one nation, but that only ended with Mr Wilkins accusing him of treason.

It was then that I lost interest in what was going on…in my opinion men were useless. They will never get anything sorted and spend their whole lives arguing about it. Give the decisions of the world to a woman and I bet that the outcome would be a lot happier. However women were not allowed that right. I had always gotten in to trouble when I was little because I was apparently to outspoken for my own good. My father and Gabriel humoured me through out my youth, which only encouraged my habit.

It wasn't until Mr Wilkins came to call on my father once that I decided to calm down a bit. Mr Wilkins had found me in my brother's breeches riding my horse one day when he decided to say something about it. He thought it was un-proper for a woman, true it was, but he had slapped me when I told him to mind his own business and from that day on, I have never liked the horrid man

My fathers voice captured my attention again in the meeting. He had made a silly joke about the English witch only a select few men found amusing. Coronal Bowman questioned his loyalties, accusing him of being un-patriotic. My father had explained himself, but it wasn't until the same stubby man who remarked earlier brought up my father's past.

Now I was listening…all of us children wanted to desperately know about our father's past, but he would not tell us, no matter how much we begged. However, Coronal Bowman knew that Gabriel, Thomas and I had no knowledge of this and diverted the subject. Gabriel gave me a frustrated look, which I returned.

"There are alternatives to War."

Our father looked around the room to see what the reaction was.

"We take our case before the king and plea…"

"Yes, we've tried that…"

The Coronal reasoned,

"Then we try again and again if necessary to avoid a war…"

I could see that our father was becoming desperate. He was not convincing the people in the room. Coronal Bowman stated the extent of the British, with statistics that just flew over my head. He then added,

"War is the only way…it has come to that."

The room suddenly erupted with a chorus of Hear Hears. Gabriel took my hand in his and gave it a reassured squeeze. I looked at him, and then looked at Benjamin. He was getting panicked. Just as we thought that he had given up trying to persuade the room, he used the one thing that he had never used as an excuse before…us.

"I have 8 children…my wife is dead, now who is to care for them if I go to war?"

Aunt Charlotte shifted in her seat, but I couldn't just sit there. I shot out of my seat and shouted, rage taking over me,

"Father!"

He turned around and looked at me with a don't you dare say any more look on his face. But by that time most of the eyes in the room were looking at me with shocked expressions, for a woman had never spoken in one of their meetings.

"Coronal Bowman is right, we cannot just sit here and wait for the British to invade our homes!"

I stood their staring at my father waiting for some kind of reply, my breathing becoming quicker and my face becoming flushed. Why would he not answer? But then he did…

"Lucy, sit down."

That was all he said. He turned away from me and sat down looking to the floor. I just stood there, unable to move even though that Gabriel had now started to pull on my arm. It was then that Mr Wilkins stood up and addresses me,

"Sit down you silly girl, or do I have to make you?"

He was now standing and looking down his nose at me. He just stared at me. I then did sit down, shaking my head at what had just happened. Nobody spoke for a while, the room was silent. One by one everyone looked away from me, each deep in thought. It was then that I stood up again, but this time to leave.

Gabriel got up after me and caught up with me outside where there were hundreds of people waiting to see what had happened in there. My breathing quickened again and tears escaped my eyes and ran down my face. I idly wiped them away with my sleeve for they were only replaced by more. Gabriel put a comforting arm around me and allowed me to cry into his shirt. It was then that I realized what I had known for a while now,

"You plan to enlist, don't you?"

I asked in between sobs, which were muffled by his jacket. Gabriel hugged me tighter and slowly said,

"I have to…"

There was no more explanation needed. I knew that one day he would go, with or without father's permission.

"Now, you will right to me, won't you?"

"Of course I will."

There was a moment's silence for we both knew that this could be the last time I would ever see my brother.

"I'll miss you terribly, you know that?"

He knew. Lucy was like a best friend to him, although Thomas was as well. Thomas was always there but he wasn't as close to him as he was to Lucy. He would miss her most out of all his family.

"Go on home now, I'll see you later."

Lucy could tell that her beloved brother was close to tears whilst saying this and that the only reason that he wanted her gone was so that he wouldn't burst in to tears.

Lucy did as she was told for once which surprised both Gabriel and herself, for she did it without question. She gave on final wipe of her face on her sleeve and left the crowded square fearing what the next few hours would bring. Would she be in trouble? Oh, there was no doubt in her mind, her father would be furious.


	3. The Dragoons

South Carolina – A Patriots story.

April 1778

After that fateful day of the meeting in Charles Town, my father Benjamin Martin has barely spoken two words to me. I knew that he would be angry with me, but this neglect is un-bearable. However, to add to my father's troubles, I also learned from Thomas that Gabriel had said something to father that has affected him greatly.

From that day to this, I have become cold to the world and to my family. I knew that one day Gabriel would join up to fight, but two years had past since that day and I still cannot believe that he is gone from my world on the plantation. He writes to Thomas and me occasionally, even though the letters are rushed and short, just to get news from the front line is a blessing.

Gabriel was shocked to hear of my engagement to the fine young Doctor, Dr John Porter. I cared nothing for him, but when John went to ask for father's permission, he seemed to be pleased. The only reason that I had accepted John's proposal was because news of my little out burst in the Charles Town meeting had spread and Thomas took great pleasure in telling me that I have as good as disgraced myself. So Dr Porter and I were to be married in the autumn. He offered nothing more than security to me.

I was now 19 and it was only a few days after my birthday when Thomas received a letter from Gabriel. I was out hunting, wearing a pair of Gabriel's breeches, supporting a dead pheasant in my hand and a polished rifle over my shoulder. I had only just learnt how to shoot after Gabriel went away, Thomas had taught me and I was a dead shot. Maybe even better than Thomas, for I seemed to have a natural talent for shooting.

I was walking over to the front of the house when I saw all of my younger brothers and sisters seated around Thomas, who was reading of a dirty piece of parchment, my siblings hanging on his every word for it seemed to bring them comfort.

"I envy you, your youth and your distance from this cruel conflict of which I am apart. But I consider myself fortunate to be serving the cause of liberty, and though I fear death, each day and prayer I reaffirm my willingness to give my life in its service. Pray for me…but above all, pray for the cause. Your loving brother, Gabriel."

This was the only part of the letter that I heard, but it was enough to nearly bring me to tears. I missed him so much, and each letter we received it felt like it was a little bit of him coming back home. I nodded to Thomas as he looked up and saw me standing, staring at him. He smiled weakly at me before I continued walking to the kitchens.

Later that night when I was sitting on the porch reading yet another book about the war, I heard a bang. I looked up, shocked at what I had just heard. Benjamin was the first to come out of the house and he looked panicked.

"6 ponders, lots of them…"

He said staring down at me. It was a matter of seconds before the others joined us, all bar Thomas who was still in the house. William, our youngest brother was the first to speak,

"How far away are they?"

He asked in his weak little voice. Father looked down at his youngest son and squeezed his shoulder reassuringly, before adding,

"Oh, there're a long way off, most probably heading in the other direction."

It was then that Thomas appeared in the doorway, clutching three muskets. He handed one to Nathan and then one to me, while he kept one for himself. I was still sitting in a little wicker chair when I had this gun pressed to me. Thomas was scared, I could tell, but he was also excited for he longed to join the continentals and fight like Gabriel, but father had not permitted him to join before he was 17, which was two long years away.

"Put those back in the house…"

"But father…" Thomas said in protest.

"Thomas, must I tell you again?"

Thomas did as he was told and reluctantly took the rifle from Nathan and me. I stared at my father, waiting for him to do something but all he did was stare out in to the horizon.

"Let's all stay close to the house tonight."

And with that we all left the porch, the younger children first, followed by father who left me out on the porch with my book.

"Lucy?"

It was my father, he only had is head peering out the side of the door when I looked to see him. I gave him a weak smile, which he returned. This was the first time in a long time that I felt close to my father. I stood up and walked over to him, where he embraced me into his chest and again into his life. I felt a wide grin spread across my face as I felt love for my father fill me again. We turned and walked, me still in his embrace, in to the house where he shut the door behind him.

That night when the younger children were eating their dinners in the dining room and Thomas was in his room painting his tin soldiers, Benjamin and I were sitting in his study talking. We seemed to catch up on the past two years of our distant relationship. I found out that he was indeed pleased of my engagement to Dr Porter, but he knew that I was not happy in doing so…for I was not in love with him.

"Do not marry him for security alone" he grabbed my hand at this point, "You could have a long engagement, where you will learn to love him in time"

I smiled at my father, placed my hand over his and,

"I feel as though I must marry him, he is a good man…"

I was cut of by my father pressing his hands to my mouth to silence me. I looked at him curiously, but did not speak. Father got up from his chair and grabbed his pistol, which lay on the table next to us. It was then that I heard a noise, the front door gently closing. As Benjamin crossed the room and out of the door in to the hall, I walked carefully over to the door and peered around. Standing at the door to the dining room, looking in was a solider with his pistol poised in front of him. I did not gasp at the sight; I was stunned that a solider was in our house.

Father took two more steps towards him before he pulled the hammer to ready the pistol for a shot. He aimed his gun at the solider and said very calmly,

"Slowly turn…"

As the solider did, I saw that he was limping slightly; this man must have been injured. But as his face slowly came into view, I saw past the dried blood…it was Gabriel.

"Father…"

Was all Gabriel could manage before he toppled down on to the floor. He was weak and he was wounded, but he was home. Father ran to him, placed his arm around his son and lifted him on to his feet allowing Gabriel to lean on him, before shouting,

"Abigail, bandages quick!"

At our father's command Abigail got the bandages. However the hall filled with my other brothers and sisters who had come out of the dining room to see what the commotion was. The younger ones let out a chorus of disbelieving,

"Gabriel?"

Thomas was also by that point down the stairs and looking at the scene below him. Father dragged Gabriel in to the front sitting room where he lowered Gabriel on to a couch. The children followed suit and piled around the doorway. Abigail fought her way through the children to hand Mr Martin the bandages and bowl of water that she had fetched. Father then looked around at the crowd, before saying,

"Abigail, the children please."

Abigail, although interested in what had happened to Gabriel, did as father told her and herded the children, including Thomas to the stairs. She did not see me in my father's study, so once she was gone I sneaked in to the room where I saw father dressing a big gash in Gabriel's side. I retched at the sight, for I had never seen anything so horrific.

I closed the door behind me, father turned around and seeing that it was me, returned to dressing Gabriel. I gave a weak smile to Gabriel as he questioned father whether we had seen any redcoats. Gabriel kept talking about some dispatches that he was carrying; I paid no attention to it, for at that moment the fields out side were alive.

I ran to the window to see what it was. There I stood in shock at seeing a real battle being fought in practically our front garden. The noise of their gunfire was becoming louder and the flash that accompanied was as bright as fire works. I could hear the panicked screams of the men fighting outside as they ran away from their advancing enemy. Men were falling like a group of dominoes. No side would win this battle, for all it brought was bloodshed.

The morning finally arrived. I had been up all night tending to both American and British men who were wounded. Every few minutes another dying man would appear for me to tend to. I thought of my fiancé for the first time in a while, what would he do? John was out tending the wounded on a different plantation, so it was up to us to take care of these.

My dress was dirty with the blood of the soldiers, my hair was hanging out of its braid and my eyes were heavy from severe lack of sleep. I looked around me. Every spare space was taken up by soldier waiting for care of some kind.

I had given my two younger sisters the task of making sure that all the men had food and drink. Although it wasn't much that we could offer them, it was greatly appreciated by the soldiers. Nathan, Samuel and William were helping out in any way that they could, but Thomas had refused to help the British. It was after a long argument that he went to strop in the sitting room by his self.

At that moment I was carefully trying to remove a bullet from a British mans leg. I had learned that his name was Christopher or Kit as he preferred and that he was only here because he needed the money the army had to offer him. He had told me that he had become fond of America and hoped that after the war he would live out here. That was all before I was poking around in his leg, trying to find the stray bullet for now he was screaming at the pain.

I had just gotten hold of the bullet with a pair of tweezers when Nathan shouted for me to look. When I raised my eyes from Kit's bleeding leg, I saw something, which will never forget; Out of the cornfield marched a few hundred redcoats. All with their guns pointed towards us.

My breathing quickened. I looked back down to Kit, the kindest thing I could do was to finish what I was doing, so with one almighty tug, my tweezers ripped from his flesh a shining silver bullet. I put the tweezers down next to me on the floor and applied pressure to the wound. My eyes started wandering back to the redcoats; they were getting closer.

I looked to my father panicked; he was standing at the bottom of the porch looking straight at the redcoats. The bleeding in Kit's leg hadn't stopped completely, but he wouldn't bleed to death if I moved. I stayed on my knees so that I wouldn't be seen above the panelling, which surrounded the porch. I crawled towards the door and there to my left was a pistol lying abandoned on the ground.

I looked up and saw Gabriel leaning against the side, but he didn't see me, he was looking at this army of redcoats that was invading our home. I picked up the pistol and ran in to the house and up the stairs in to my room. I shut the door quickly and crossed to my open window, where I hid from sight for a moment.

The English officer was talking to my father, thanking him for the care of the British. It was then that I heard the sound of the one thing that had frightened so many before me. I heard the thundering sound of the British cavalry approaching.

I sneaked a look out of the window and brought my head straight back in once I saw the colour of their uniforms. They were the Green Dragoons. The most feared company of men that the British had. And they were led by the one man who had been the subject to my younger siblings nightmares for so long. They were led by Coronal William Tavington. He had earned his nickname "The Butcher" by his cruel tactics and ungodly ways.

As he rode up to the front of the house a nervous officer addressed him. I could see that Tavington was about 30 years of age and about 6 foot in height, but the one thing that shocked me was his menacing blue eyes. He was handed something by the officer, looked at it briefly and shouted.

To my surprise Gabriel stepped forward and spoke, although I could not hear anything that was going on. Father stepped in front of his son and desperately said something. I saw my brother being approached by two soldiers and then willingly having his hands bound.

My father was beginning to look panicked and said something to the "Butcher". Tavington then raised his voice as well as his pistol and shouted whilst pointing his gun at my father,

"Would you like a lesson in the rules of war?"

My father didn't move, so Tavington moved his aim towards my brothers and sisters who were gathered on the porch. That was the last straw for me. My anger took over me, for I had no idea what I was doing. My hands were shaking as I leaned out of the window and aimed my pistol at the coronal. The next thing I heard was a mighty bang!

My bullet had only just missed the horrid man, scratching his cheek. He immediately looked up in to the open window where I was. Everyone was looking at me, as I stood glued to the spot.

"Get her down here now!"

The coronal said in a dangerously calm voice, he was holding his cheek.

"Shit!"

Was the first thing that came to me as I heard feet pounding up the stairs. I dropped my pistol on to the hard wooden floor and ran. I ran out of my room and down the corridor. But I was not quick enough for I heard men shouting behind me.

Panic was flooding me; what had I done? I was not able to outrun the soldiers for they soon caught hold of my arm and tripped me. I fell to the floor with a thud. I felt two great arms rap around me as I was lifted from the floor.

I struggled, but it was fruitless. The other soldier grabbed hold of me as well, more roughly than the other did. I felt the warm breath of the soldier on my cheek as he whispered in my ear form behind,

"Feisty one aren't we? The cornels going to have fun with you!"

I didn't know what he had implied, and I didn't care. I had to get out of this.

As I was dragged outside still kicking and screaming, I saw my father looking at me, with tears in his eyes. Gabriel was being bound to a cart and the others just stood there looking at me, mouths wide open in shock at what had just happened. I was brought to the side of the coronal's horse and I looked up at him. He was really quite attractive for a man, but I hated him.

He said nothing to me, he only smirked and that intimidated me.

"Take her with us"

He said anyone who would listen. I could feel the anger rushing through me; I wanted to hurt this man.

A short and stocky man came up to me and tightly rapped my hands together, while I was still being held by the soldiers from earlier, but as one loosened his grip, I kicked the short man in his face and I heard his jaw break. He retaliated and slapped me hard across the face, which stung.

"Bind her feet and put her on a horse…"

The one solider said to the other, and so it was agreed. The stocky man got the other to hold my legs while he bound my feet; I screamed in disgust, no man had ever been this vial to me.

The thing that made me be quiet was another gunshot. I relaxed and turned around, I saw Thomas on his knees, his shirt being soaked by his own blood. He must have run to Gabriel for why else would they shoot him? I stared in disbelief at what I saw, my body went cold.

There was black smoke rising from the house and barn. I was pushed up onto my own horse Opal, who must have been stolen by the redcoats. I was forced to ride sidesaddle because of my bounds, which I hated. There were a hundred gunshots as the American soldiers were shot and there was my family, all in tears, for they were about to loose another member of their family to lord knows what fate.

I said nothing, white with shock and with a vacant expression on my face. When we reached the plantation gates and I looked back at what was my life. I saw a cloud of black smoke, a bundle of people in front of the house and my brother Gabriel being dragged along by these monsters who had taken away 3 members of our family in one day.

I knew nothing of what was to come. My only comfort was that Gabriel would be going with me. But that was not to be, for the foot company took the next road and I was left all alone in the world.


	4. A new life

South Carolina – A patriot's story.

I could not think as I rode down the dirt track away from my former life. My body was numb to all that was going on around me. I kept my eyes to the ground as I relived the events of the last few hours. Silent tears poured down my pale face and try as I may to stop them, they would not.

My body swayed in time to my horse, Opal, trampling the ground beneath me. I was not allowed to hold the reigns to him, so I was being pulled along by one of the cavalry members who were riding along besides me.

I noticed that I had no shoes on when I went to rub my sore ankles. It was a funny sight me reaching down to them, for I was riding sidesaddle, my feet were bound and so were my hands. I brought my one knee up and rested it on the front of the saddle; this caused the man who was leading me to look to me. This was not what a lady should do, but I didn't care if a bit of my leg was showing.

The man gave me a cheery smile, which I could not return. So I once again looked down to the floor. We had been travelling for nearly two hours, I guessed for I could not reach the pocket watch that was in my dress pocket. It was the one bit of home that I had left, and if any of the British saw that I had they would take it away from me and use it to buy beer and whores in the brothels.

I could not believe the British, they were vermin in my eyes and I was not willing to befriend any of them, not even my chirpy redcoat who was besides me.

The road was getting dryer as the warm sun licked it with its warmth. I could see that the horses were getting restless and tired, for some of them in front of me had already tried to buck off their riders. Every time this happened I gave a slight chuckle, for Opal was better trained than the rest of them. I had trained him myself and he would not let any other but me ride him. Gabriel and Thomas had tried a few times but that only ended in a lot of bruises for them.

As I thought of my dear brothers, tears came to my eyes again. I kept saying,

"Thomas is dead…Thomas is dead."

In my mind, almost to help come to terms with it. And for all I knew, Gabriel was dead as well. We can't have been going to the same place for the two companies split almost as soon as we got of the plantation. I would not look at Gabriel when we started riding on to different paths, for I would only burst in to tears, but I knew that he was looking at me.

I was brought back to the cruel reality by one of the front men saying,

"Dismount here and let the horses drink."

The whole company stopped and dismounted, but I stayed where I was, for I could hardly jump of with my feet bound. I was forgotten for a moment, as the surrounding men lead their horses of the road to where I could hear a stream.

My face was dry now and my skin felt raw from all the crying. I felt as though I had no more tears left to cry, for I hadn't even cried when my mother died. I fiddled with the rope that bound my hands. I could undo this knot if I tried hard enough.

"You there!"

Some one from the front called, he had a strong British accent, I looked up. There was a man riding towards me. He had dirty blonde hair that was pulled back in to a tight military queue. His face was soft and friendly; he looked like he didn't belong here. He could not have been cruel and heartless, but yet he had stripes on his uniform epilates.

The man dismounted when he reached my side and took of his hat, which I noted looked like it had a dead animal on top of it. He came up to my horse and grabbed the reigns of the other man, who although standing on the floor still had hold of them, tightly. He muttered thanks to the solider, who then disappeared.

"Your horse needs some water…"

He stopped when he saw that I was not looking or listening to him. He had a confused look on his face.

"Why do you not answer?"

It was then that I looked at him, straight in the eyes. He looked a bit taken back at my sudden signs of life. I then replied, looking away from him,

"I do not speak to people unless I know who I am speaking to…"

He nodded the way that only English gentlemen do and said,

"Forgive me, I am Major Richard Borden of the Green Dragoons, and you are?"

He seemed charming, despite being a redcoat. He smiled at me warmly when I looked down to him,

"My name is Lucy Martin."

"Well it's a pleasure to meet you Miss Martin, even though if the circumstances are a little strange."

He gave a little chuckle at hearing his own remark and continued,

"But as I said earlier, your horse needs water."

I didn't know what else to say to this man, wasn't it obvious why I didn't get down? He seemed to be oblivious to the bounds that surrounded my hands and feet. So I took matters in to my own hands, I flashed my wrists and pointed to my ankles.

"I will cut the bonds on your ankles, only if you promise not to kick anyone else. That Private has done nothing but complain ever since it happened."

I gave a laugh at hearing that I had done so much damage to one of his majesties finest troopers and nodded slightly.

My eyes widened as I saw Major Borden produce a silver dagger from his fine leather belt. My eyes followed the dagger until it got to my ankles, when I had to look away for the sight of a weapon so close to my skin would only scare me more. Only I felt safe around the Major and I had not felt safe in a long time.

I felt the rope become slack around my ankles and felt the cool breeze brush against the raw skin where the rope had rubbed me. The ropes had been tight and the feeling of blood returning to my feet was welcomed gladly.

The next thing I knew, Major Borden's hands were gripping my side as he lifted me down and on to the floor. As my feet touched the ground, my ankles gave way slightly and I had fallen in to the major. I felt my cheeks flush as this way highly embarrassing for both me and the major. He kept his arm around my shoulders and allowed my to lean against him. He chuckled and said,

"Now if you're good, I might untie the bonds around your wrists."

With that I also laughed and steadied myself so that I was standing on my own two feet again. I looked at him through my reddening cheeks, and saw him also smiling.

"You…"

He snapped at a nearby solider,

"Take Miss Martin's and my horse down to the stream."

The recruit obeyed immediately and grabbed the reigns of the ground, for Borden had dropped them a while ago. It was then I realized that he could be a leader, that he was and that his men loved him. He seemed firm but fair but his men but also he didn't look down his nose to them, like so many other officers did. He was caring and compassionate to me, who was after all a prisoner.

What seemed like another hour passed in our long journey. I was riding next to Major Borden who had allowed me to keep hold of my own reigns and not have to be pulled along. I was not riding sidesaddle anymore which pleased me greatly. But on condition of all this freedom within our party, I was told ever so subtly that, if I was to try and escape, then I would be shot.

Major Borden was riding a little further back from his other officers for I had refused to go anywhere near Tavington, which he understood. The major was telling me of his home in England and what he used to do as a child. I didn't really want to know any of this but it kept my mind of the horrid truth of what had happened this morning.

I was able to relate to Borden, for he felt completely alone since his twin brother had been shot for desertion when the war had started. I found out that he had hardly any family left in England, for he only had a small family and that most had died of consumption. His family were wealthy and when his father died, he bought himself a commission and joined the army.

I told him about my family, how life used to be on the plantation, but when he saw me getting upset talking about it he diverted the conversation on to the weather, which I noted was a typically British thing to do.

Hours went on with us just chatting, about anything and nothing. Until I asked the two things that had been troubling me for a while,

"What are you going to do with me and why are you being so nice?"

I didn't expect the answer that I received,

"I'm not going to lie to you, I don't know what the Coronal wants to do with you, and as for me being nice? I believe that you must make your friends where you can, whether they be British or American."

The last bit was added when the major saw my face, about to protest to what he had just said. But the truth was, he couldn't have been more right. You have got to make your friends where you can, for you never know when they will come in handy.

There was only one subject that hadn't been covered when we saw the British camp in the distance; our love lives. I had not wanted to ask him and he had not asked me, for he would want to know about mine and I had tried so hard to put everything out of my mind. This was as good as a fresh start, I had to try and forget my family for it only upset me thinking about them. I was here on my own, and I had to get used to it.

I saw the full extent of the British camp when we crossed the hill which we had been climbing for about half and hour. There were thousands of little white tents, all in line as though on parade. It shocked me, the colonials obviously had no idea of this camp or otherwise it would have been attacked.

It was nearly sunset now, and everything was silhouetted against the setting sun. We rode a good way into the camp and stopped outside probably the biggest tent in the camp. It was there that Tavington dismounted his horse and entered the tent, removing his hat on the way. Borden turned to me and said,

"It shouldn't be long now."

I nodded in hope more than agreement, I loved riding but I was sore from all day on one horse. I stared around the camp and caught a glimpse of a woman with a toothy grin, she was dressed in rags and her hair was falling from its braid. She turned to her side and I saw that she was with child. I never thought that women would be in the camps with the soldiers. And what was worse was that their children would have to grow up in them as well.

I looked away when the woman looked up at me. She called to someone else and another woman, similar looking to the one that called her, came over to were she was standing. They whispered to each other and the one pointed at me. I didn't know what to think or do. But I felt my cheeks flush at their actions. I hated being talked about, when my brothers and sisters used to do it I would make them tell me what they had been saying, but I couldn't call to the women and demand to hear what they were saying, so I let them talk.

It was then that Tavington came bursting out of the large tent, looking furious about something.

"Is everything alright, sir?"

Borden began as Tavington stormed past. He stopped in his tracts, slowly turning to see Borden on his horse. He glared at him for a moment, and then his gaze shifted to me, for I was next to Borden. Without warning, Tavington leapt towards Borden and me. He went behind Borden and headed to me. I didn't look at him at all since he came out of the tent, but I could feel his presence.

Tavington grabbed hold of my waist and pulled me of the horse. I was down on my feet, but my hands were still tied. I let out a whimper as Tavington grabbed hold of my already sore wrists, and began to drag me across the camp.

I looked back, only to see a shocked Borden still on his horse, watching the scene below him. I looked pleadingly at him, but he did nothing. I didn't scream or make a fight while I was being dragged away. I only thought of my brother, Gabriel. What was happening to him? It was then that the first tear for a good 5 hours escaped my stinging eyes. What was happening to me? I never cried.

Tavington did not release his grip on me at all. We continued walking, or him walking, me scrambling along behind until we reached a big manor house at the edge of the camp. I didn't know what to do or think. Is he going to take me in to the manor? He looks too angry to be nice. But when would the famous 'Butcher' be nice?

We entered through the big iron gates that surrounded the house; there was nobody about keeping watch or standing guard. However, once inside the gates Tavington pulled me sharply to the left. There I saw some cold stone steps leading in to the ground, and that's just where I was going. He lead me down perhaps a dozen steps before I saw a door; it was wooden but with a cast iron frame.

I began to panic. I didn't know what was behind these doors and I didn't want to find out. But as I pulled against his grip and shouted at the top of my lungs,

"No! Somebody help me!"

He turned around and stared daggers at me, his cold icy eyes almost white with anger. He took a deep breath in and ever so calmly said,

"No one's going to help you now…"

My breath quickened as he turned back to the door. Images of all the story's I had heard about this man came flooding back to me. This was the man that slowly mutilated people for answers about the continental army. This was the man that burned people's homes, mine included and this was the man that had killed my 15-year-old brother, Thomas.

Anger slowly drowned me. I could feel it pulsing through my veins and oozing from my very being. I had to hurt this man. He had caused so much fear, loss and suffering within me. I had forgotten my hatred and loathing I felt for this man, for Borden had entertained me on the way here. By the look on Borden's face when Tavington took me, it seemed that he really did have no idea of what was to become of me.

Tavington was sorting out a bunch of keys which he had grabbed from the wall next to him, he was trying to find the key that would open this door, and all that I could do was wait for the door to open and to find out what was behind it, which my gut instinct told me wasn't very good.

But what could I do? This man would easily over power me if I tried to attack him and I couldn't run because of these stupid bonds about my wrists. Then it dawned on me. I had rope. Without thinking, I grabbed the furthest piece of rope from me, for Tavington was holding the one end, and quickly threw it over his head and felt it fall to his neck.

I could strangle the 'Butcher'. As I pulled back with all my might, I hoped I would choke the air out of this man. I really had no idea what I was doing, and there was nobody to help me so I had to sort this out by myself. I had never killed anybody in my life, but I thought that if I had to, it would be Coronal William Tavington.

He gasped at my sudden attack but before I could do anything, he had whipped around and pinned me to the opposite wall, clutching at my neck. I could hardly breath and the pain that surged through my body at being pinned hardly at the shoulders was overtaking me. The anger that had pulsated through my body only a few moments before was now taken over by utter fear for this man, no monster that stood before me.

I gasped for what little breath I could get in that dark and dingy little corridor. But not a tear escaped my eyes. This surprised me, for cry was all that I seemed to do today. I had cried for my family, I had cried for my home, but I did not cry for my situation or for myself at that present moment. I would not let him see me cry.

He let go of my neck after what seemed like an eternity. I fell limp on to the ground after he let go of my shoulder. I held my sore neck with my bound hands, but could find no relief.

Tavington found the key and opened the door. I did not look up for fear of what I might find. What a sight I was, sitting in a heap on the damp ground, I thought to myself. What would my family say if they saw me now?

Tavington grabbed my hair, and pulled me up. I let out a little scream for it felt like my hair would fall out. I was waiting for the blood to start poring down my face from my head, but none came. I was standing up on my feet and I thought, what is going to happen to me? There was no answer from anyone, anywhere. I truly was alone.

At that Tavington roughly pushed me in to the room. I fell at the force once I was through the doorway. It was all dark inside, I couldn't see a thing. The only light was coming from open door, which I had just been pushed through. But that light soon went out as the 'Butcher' shut the door and locked it behind him. He had not only shut out the light in the room, but he had shut out the light of my spirit, my hope and my only chance of escape.


	5. The General

South Carolina – A patriot's story.

1778ish

I sat in that dark room for hours. Leaning up against the damp wall, salty tears running down my bruising face. Tavington had left about half an hour after he had dragged me down in to that little room. But I remained, unable to control my tears. I was not hysterical.

"Its just pain…"

I kept telling myself this, over and over again in my head. I was unable to understand why someone would do this to another. But I kept coming back to the one same conclusion, Tavington was a butcher. He enjoyed causing pain to others, he must have.

Images of the previous night kept flooding back to me. I was scared of him, who wouldn't be. His eyes were white from anger, but his face always held the same tight expression. The room was dark. It must have been some sort of basement, before the British came. But now I understood what it's purpose was. It was a room specially used to hold spies.

There was nothing in this room, save for a small wooden table in the centre with two chairs on either side. This was where they held people, where they intimidated them and where they beat them for answers. That was what Tavington had done to me. He had beaten me. My face was swollen from the amount of times it had been slapped, my lip was bleeding, my arms and legs were bruised, my neck was still sore from where I had been chocked, my hands were still bound and sore and my side stung with every breath I took.

I sat there, against the wall, sobbing to myself. I was in a messy heap on the ground. I didn't have the energy to get up. I was aching and hurting all over. I was trapped. Tavington had left the door open, so I could see that it was still dark, but I could see the sun rising in the distance.

There were guards at the gates of the manor, for I could here them chatting to one another. They must have been aware that I was here, but then again Tavington could have told them not to come down here and help me. That's what the horrid man must have done.

I didn't think that the English were any different than us, for I knew that the colonials were just as bad. The thought made me sick to my stomach, although that could be to do with the lack of food and water I've had, or haven't as the case may be.

Another hour or so passed and I was playing with the rope that bound my hands. It had been nearly 24 hours and the knot that tied it was still as tight as ever. I tried to pull my one hand through the tight bound, but I had no luck. There was now clear sunlight shining through the little room and brightening the prison that I was kept. I still didn't feel as though I could get up from where I was sitting. The only thought that occupied me was the notion of sleep. It was no longer that of escape, but that of sleep.

I awoke to the sound of heavy footsteps thundering down the dozen or so stone steps that lead to where I was. I must have only been sleeping for a few minutes, for the light in the room was still pretty much the same. The footsteps were getting louder and closer. I could almost feel someone's stare on me. I didn't look up. I continued resting my head on my shoulder. There was a man standing at the doorway.

The idea of it being Tavington coming to beat me again crossed my mind, but I was proved wrong when his deep English voice echoed through the room.

"Dear God! Someone fetch the doctor!"

This was not the voice of anyone I had ever heard before. For a second I hoped that it would be Major Borden, but it wasn't. I had no idea who this man was. He ran over to where I was, and crouched down next to my pathetic heap. He gently put his hand under my chin and lifted my head up to meet his eyes.

He had warm eyes and wore a powered wig. He must have been in his mid 30's. I noticed the stripes on his uniform and recognized him as a General. He looked at my face. Sighed. Touched my swollen cheek and removed his hand when I flinched.

"So, this is the criminal…"

He was shaking his head in despair with this whilst muttering those few words to himself. Up until now I had not looked him directly in his eyes, but when I did, he seemed taken aback. My breathing was surprisingly calm, yet it was shaky and laboured at the same time.

I let my head fall again to my chest. I started to play with the rope again. The General noticed this. He seemed disgusted with me, but he may have been disgusted with my present state. He was a gentleman.

"Everything's going to be alright, we're going to take care of you now. The doctors on his way."

This was my chance to say something, anything that would get me out of this room. I took my chance. With my bound hands I grabbed the front of his jacket and looked in to his magical blue eyes. He looked stunned at first from my sudden display of movement. But he did not make any attempt to push me back from him.

He was not afraid. But then again, why would this man be afraid of a broken girl? My ribs gave a particularly painful jolt of pain, but I did not move to clutch hold of my side. My golden hair hung loosely about my face, and I could see bloodstains in it. I did nothing. There was nothing I could do. My body was too weak to do anything.

I was hurting, both inside and out. I could do nothing. I felt completely alone in a world that is unforgiving and merciless. But why was this man helping me? Why was he nothing like Tavington? Tavington would have hurt me more if I had grabbed hold of him. There were no answers to my numerous questions.

I felt alone. All that I could do was collapse and cry in to this officer's uniform. He however, did not move at all. The truth of the matter was he couldn't understand how this girl was still fighting, how she still had a flair for life and survival after all that she had gone through. No family, no home and no future. What a sad situation.

There she sat, crumpled on the floor before him, a man who had always prided himself on being kind and compassionate to everybody. Here she was, blooded and broken with her hands bound. How could Tavington do such a thing? She can't have been more than 20, only just left childhood. And yet he didn't do anything to ease the pain she was going through.

All I did was cry, for maybe 10 minutes straight. The General patiently sat there with her, cradling her hurting form in his arms.

"Where is that doctor!?"

Lucy heard him mutter angrily to himself. Her tears had not entirely stopped, but they had eased. Her eyes were glassy, and they stung from the tears.

After another 10 minutes or so, they General bent down to where Lucy's head was on his lap. He stroked the stray piece of hair that swung down on to her face away and smiled in to her eyes. She didn't acknowledge him at all. She just stared blankly at the opposite wall. The General looked away and sighed a uncertain sigh.

He turned back and looked at the back of her head once again. The General had made up his mind. He gently placed his hand on Lucy's shoulder and shook. This knocked Lucy from her gaze. She looked up at him through sad eyes.

"My name is Charles, I'm going to see if you can get to your feet."

This didn't make much sense to Lucy, although she was glad that she now knew the name of this man. It was then that Lucy felt Charles shift from beside her and place two strong arms around her back. With that he pulled her to her feet.

As soon as Lucy's feet had touched the ground, they collapsed beneath her. She once again grabbed on the Charles, with her still bound hands, to steady herself. But it was no use, for she fell to her knees, and hit the damp floor once again.

"Right, I'm going to have to carry you."

Why didn't he even ask my name?

"Help…" Lucy wheezed, "Find Borden…"

At this a new pain erupted from inside her chest. She could not speak and she could hardly breath. She cried out, but all that came was a pained whimper.

"Save your breath…" The General began, "You must have broken some ribs in the night."

He was assertive and confident. Lucy knew that if she had any hope of survival then this man would play a part in it.

Charles lightly slid his hands around her waist and pulled her up enough so that he could slip his hands beneath her knees. Before she knew it, Lucy was being carried out of the dark and dingy room in the arms of maybe the one exception's in the British army. She remembered how only 12 hours ago she had thought Major Borden one of those men. But what had he done when she needed him? He watched as Tavington dragged me from my horse last night. He didn't protest or anything, he just watched.

The thought sickened me to the pits of my stomach. How could any man do this to a person? And how could a man on the same side be so caring? I didn't say another word as Charles and I headed up the stone steps. It was still dawn and the sun hadn't risen fully. The light was still blinding. I turned away trying to shield my eyes. There were lots of calls from around me by different people.

I paid no notice to them, I couldn't. I felt suddenly sick and dizzy at once. I didn't know what was happening to me but I didn't like it. I brought my hands up to my head, but I soon felt darkness overtaking me. The endless black was consuming me, eating away at the light that burnt my eyes. I felt my body go limp, I had passed out.


	6. Cornwallis

South Carolina – A Patriots story

This is for Tavingtonrose who didn't leave an email address: I live in Wales, just outside of Newport. So I have a weird accent.

I was suddenly disturbed from my peaceful slumber by the sound of many things at once. I heard someone running about, someone steadily pacing and two other men talking. I did not open my eyes though, for fear of what I may find. I felt the cold thick cotton sheets upon the bed that I was lying on. My face felt cold and my wrists felt raw, the bound had been undone for I could feel the cool air around them.

My body was restricted in some way. I was not wearing a corset, for I felt no bones in the front, but I felt something tightly wrapped around my trunk. My neck was still sore, but had nothing covering it. Still every breath I took was agony. I still didn't open my eyes, I didn't want too. I wanted just to go back to sleep.

"Borden your dismissed…"

This was shouted by a thick British accent, which I couldn't place. He did not sound overly friendly, but he didn't sound fierce either.

Then it hit me, Borden, Major Borden was here, just about to leave the room. He was the one person that I would like to see. But I still couldn't bring myself to open my heavy eyes. So I just listened. There was the sound of a door being shut from across the room and the steady footsteps of someone coming towards me.

"Borden's just told me all that he knows. It wasn't much though."

What? What didn't Borden know? Surly he knew what was going to happen to me when Tavington dragged me away. He must have known for his last look towards me was pained.

"It's obvious though…"

This voice I knew, it was Charles. He must have been the one who was pacing. But that still left the one who was skittering around who had now gone.

There was no reply form the one unknown man. What did he care for my situation? But Charles continued in what he was saying.

"Tavington states that she shot at him, but look at her. She has probably never even held a pistol in her life! Tavington has never done this before, this is an all time low even for him."

Never even held a pistol! This was thin ice. This man didn't know me. How could he make an accusation like that! But then again I didn't say anything for I wanted to hear more.

"Then what do you suppose we do with the girl? Borden said she had no family and that they burned the home."

What was to become of me? This was true, I had no home. And as for my family…

"Sir, the young doctor seemed to know her. Maybe she can help out in the medical tents?"

Young doctor? I only knew one doctor and that was my fiancé John. Oh Christ! Dose John knows what has happened to me? Why am I thinking of John? I don't have any feelings for him. This was a good time to let these men know that I'm here.

"Hmm, hmm!"

This came out more like a cough than a statement. But it worked; Charles immediately ran to the side of the bed and held my hand. I opened my eyes and looked around dazed.

This room was nothing like I had ever seen. It was richly furnished. There was a window to my right that allowed the mid-morning sun to light my room. I saw a righting desk just to the side of the window and on the other wall stood a big wooden wardrobe. The one door was open and inside I saw… an officer's uniform.

So this was not my room. I was just borrowing it. But then again, why would I think that I would get my own room?

"Anne! Get the doctor!"

The unknown Gentleman shouted through the open door. There was no reply that I could here, because Charles had started talking.

"How do you feel?"

That was a stupid question.

"Oh, Great!"

I replied in a wheezy voice. My sides were still sore, but they did not send a massive pulse of pain through my body when I spoke.

Charles laughed heartily at my comment but stopped when he saw me trying to get up. It was agony shifting from my back. I pressed up on my elbows and it was then that I felt another set of arms pulling my up to lean against the headrest. I looked up and saw the man who I still didn't know. I swallowed and found my mouth was dry. My face must have given me away, for the stranger lifted a cup from the table to the side of the bed and held it to my mouth. I took the cup in my hands and drank in a most un lady like fashion. But I didn't care, it had been ages since I drank last and I was dying for it.

After I finished my second cup full I stared thankfully at this man in front of me. I looked to his uniform and gapped at the sight I saw. I saw the stripes and uniform of the Lord General Cornwallis. He was the one who was leading the British in to battle. He was there equivalent of a king. He chuckled lightly when he followed my stare.

"I see you've heard of me…"

I looked up disbelieving in to his eyes. He was nothing like I thought he would be. He seemed almost grand fatherly. This was the man who my father spoke of.

"Your, the Lord General Cornwallis!"

I still couldn't believe this. He made no attempt to laugh this time,

"And now we must know your name and what happened to you…"

He was so serious this time. I could see his temper fading. He some how reminded me of my father. I sat up a little more and took a few deep breaths before I started.

"My name…is Lucy…Martin. We were…caring for the…soldiers…on the plantation…there had been a battle. Both Colonials…and British were wounded…we helped them all. My brother…Gabriel…returned home. Morning came…redcoats surrounded us…all colonials killed. I ran upstairs…had a pistol. Tavington came…and wanted to take Gabriel. I shot…missed him. Redcoats came…for me. Tavington killed…Thomas, my brother. Burned…house. Brought me here. Tavington…took me…little room. Beat me…Charles found me."

At this point I was in tears. My side was killing me and I couldn't control my laboured breathing. Charles put a comforting arm around me and once again I cried in to his uniform. Cornwallis however took a step back from me.

"So you fired at one of my officers…?"

I looked up at him, my eyes stinging and my face shocked. That was a shooting offence. Was he going to have me shot?

"Are you…going to have me…shot?"

I was saying through my sobs. His face gave nothing away. Charles tightened his grip around me, if only for reassurance.

"Sir, she did care for his majesty's soldiers as well as well as there own…"

Charles said in an act of desperation. He was not going to let this girl just die.

"O'Hara! I do not know what to do with her yet. I must speak to Tavington first, find out the truth."

The truth! I just told him the bloody truth! Tavington will just twist things, I know he will. And with that the Lord General turned and walked out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him. I was left alone with O'Hara, who's last name I had just found out. I did not cry anymore. I sat there staring at the closed door.

"Get some more sleep, Lucy."

Charles said, standing from the bed.

"Don't leave…please."

He looked at me with a pained expression on his face.

"It will be alright…I'll come back in an hour or so."

And with that he left, leaving me once again alone in what little was left of my life. Sleep over took me and I dreamed of the plantation, of how it once was.

I opened my eyes slowly at first, but then I found my self fully awake as I heard the commotion outside. It can't have been long after noon, for the sun was still high.

I felt that I had to try and get up out of this borrowed bed. I was no longer in my stained dress that I had on when I was last at the plantation, but I had a new and starched nightgown on.

I looked down to admire this fine piece of clothing and found what I thought was a corset earlier. My body was bound in a stiff bandage. I must have broken a few ribs last night, for the bandage was bound so tightly that it restricted my movement to a minimal. I could hardly breath in this contraption, but then that was probably the point.

I walked over to the window and what I saw I did not expect. There were redcoats running across the front lawns and just outside the walls I could see the massive British campsite. There were lots of people moving around the sea of white tents. I could not just stay and wait to find out what had happened, it was not in my nature. I had always been too curious for my own good, but I also felt strange in another mans room.

I crossed over to the wardrobe in hope of finding something to wear. Maybe I thought that I could find another dress to wear, but all that was in there were officer's uniforms. I however was no stranger to a pair of breeches. I thought, briefly about whose clothes I was wearing. There were no stripes on them and they seemed new. I carefully pulled on these strangers' clothes and went to look about. It was painful to walk, but I managed some how.

As I reached the door to the Manor, I noticed at how quiet it was in the house. They must all be out side. I opened the door slowly, trying not to course any noise. It worked and I made my way to the redcoat camp.

There were wounded men everywhere. They were crying out for some kind of care, anything that someone could give them. I noticed the big tent again, the one that Tavington had come storming out of the previous night. I entered the tent and saw something that I would never forget. There was pain all around me and there was nothing I could do. But then I could help out if I could just find the surgeon.

As I walked further in to the tent, many hands tried to grab hold of me to help them in their dieing hour. But I continued on my search.

In the far side of the tent there were not so many people and, one of the few there was the one person I did not want to see. There was Tavington, lying in one of the cots, with what looked like a bullet wound in his left shoulder. There was what looked like the surgeon scuttling around behind the other cots. None of them were filled though. There was a distinct,

"Hmm, hmm"

That came from behind me. I was startled and looked around. There standing in front of me was Major Borden. I let out a sigh of relief at his sight and hugged him. He looked a bit taken aback, but he hugged me back after he realized that I was not going to let go in a hurry.

"Lucy?"

This did not come from Borden; it was not a British accent, but an American one. I slowly let go of Borden and looked around. There in front of me was my fiancé, John.


	7. Captain Wilkins

South Carolina – A Patriot's story

I stood glued to the spot in fear at what I saw in front of me. John, my fiancé was here and working for the British!

"John?"

I asked questioningly. He did not reply, he opened his arms and stepped forward. I however stepped back away from him and in to Borden. Borden did not step away, and he put his reassuring hands on my shoulders. It was then that I noticed his leather doctor's apron around him; it was splattered with blood and other things that I would not care to guess what. He saw my horror stricken face, staring at his apron. He leaned forward towards me again, but there was nowhere else to go, I was already tight against Borden. John placed his hand under my chin and lifted my face up to him.

"Your bruising is healing well…"

I just stared at him, unable to find the words to express myself. I was disgusted. But then again, maybe he too was captured and forced to work here. I rudely took my head away from his grasp and looked to the floor. It was then that a horrid snarl came from the cot at the back of the tent.

"Are you just going to stand there?"

I don't know if this was aimed at John or myself. John shook his head and once again paced over to where Tavington lay.

"Now lay still…"

John said, as though he had said it a thousand times before. The truth was that he probably had being a doctor.

"Just get on with it!"

Barked Tavington in a dangerous tone. John raised a shiny tool from the table next to him, and pressed it against Tavington's shoulder. He gave a pained sigh, but did not cry out. I looked away and stared at the uniform of Borden. I did not move from him, I was still close. He was as well. He made no effort to move away from me. I bet he is just doing this because he feels guilty for leaving me yesterday. At that I moved away from him, I did not want his company if was based on pity.

I moved to the door of the tent, being careful not to be pulled in by any of the other patients who still insisted on trying to grab me. I turned and looked back around the tent, so this is where John is now. I tried to register every thing I saw, giving me a mental note to commit it to memory.

The tent door swung open and in walked a man who walked straight in to the back of me. I was knocked forward, but managed not to fall on to the muddy floor. I spun around after regaining my balance and there before me was none other than

Mr Wilkins! He stood there staring at me before snarling,

"What are you doing hear?"

I didn't answer, but pushed straight past him and out of the tent. The noon sun was bright on my eyes and it took a while for me to regain focus. I shook my head, trying desperately to clear my thoughts. I heard the tent flap open again and there was a firm grip on my shoulder.

"Un hand me, sir…"

I added the 'sir' as an after thought, for I didn't know who it was but I had my suspicions that it was Mr Wilkins. The hand did not move at all, but pulled me around to face him. I felt another hand now clutching at my other arm. It was Wilkins.

"Now, will you answer my question?"

I did not even appear to be thinking about this, but for some reason I found it hard to speak. I was not going to give him the satisfaction of a straight answer.

"I will not answer you until you address me properly."

I appeared assertive and confident, but I could not look in to his eyes. He seemed angered at this, but did nothing. He took a deep breath and said,

"I do not know how to address you until I know why you are hear."

I scoffed at this, for only he could have said something like that. I still said nothing, but put on an unaffected face. He however continued,

"Well, do I call you prisoner?"

At this he tightened his hold on me as though to prove his point, but there was still more that he was saying,

"Or do I call you whore?"

At this he pulled me to him, and snaked his arms around my back holding me there.

I whimpered a little at this, for I did not expect it. I struggled against his hold, but soon realized it was fruitless. He brought his head to the side of my face and whispered,

"I will have you…"

I could feel his sickly breath on my neck, and I desperately whished to be somewhere else. I tried to fight again. My arm was released and my hand swung towards his face in one fluid movement. His face moved against my hand and he stumbled at my sudden outburst.

I watched as he regained his balance and the look on his face was his priceless. He can't have thought that I would have done that. Wilkins never released his grip on my shoulder and it tightened. I then noticed at how tall he really was. I then laughed at the thought of when Wilkins hit me when I was 14 for talking back to him.

"What are you laughing at!"

I continued to laugh, but he just got more agitated.

"Last time you hit me, I was the one crawling on the floor…"

His face tightened and got more aggressive.

"There's still time…"

His grip tightened again and I let out a little scream for he was pressing down on a bruise. He pulled me closer to him again and I continued to fight. His hand began to rise and I knew he was going to slap me. A smile crept on his face, a cruel smile one that was full of hatred.

"Go on…go on and hit me you traitor!"

I snarled at him waiting for the blow to hit. I heard the tent flap open and tried to turn around, it was then that Wilkins cruel hand struck.

I fell to the floor as I felt the searing pain flood through me face. It was then that I hard a voice through the pulsing in my ears.

"Captain Wilkins!"

It was Borden, I looked up at him and he had hold of Wilkins and was staring daggers at him. Borden was not happy. By the looks of things Tavington was still inside as well as John. There were now a few people standing around watching the scene. Borden let go of Wilkins with a whispered comment that I did not hear.

Wilkins looked defeated, but he also looked as though he wanted to hit Borden, which I could understand. Wilkins had probably wanted to hit me that one day in Charlestown. God I hated him!

"Lucy? Are you alright?"

Borden said as he crossed over to me. I leaned in to him and he cradled me against him. I looked over to Wilkins and smiled at him. I could use this to my advantage. Borden did like me and at that moment he was the only person that I trusted. I didn't want to see John at the moment, but there he was standing at the opening of the tent looking at me, in an officer uniform, on the floor and in the arms of the one and only Major Borden. He didn't look happy, but there was me smirking. John stood with an open mouth and watched as Borden lifted me from the ground and on to my feet.

"Let's go…"

I said as I glared at Wilkins and then at John in turn. Borden slid his arm around my waist and helped me walk towards the manor. I didn't talk to him; I didn't even look at him. I just kept walking, thinking of what Wilkins had said, 'I will have you'. My knees collapsed beneath me and I fell to the ground.

"I'm scared Borden, I'm so scared."

Borden came next to me and once again cradled me in his strong arms.

"It's Ok. I'll look after you."

This was said in reassurance and I knew that he couldn't really mean it. He had no idea what I had to be scared of.

"Wilkins…said that he…he would…"

I couldn't finish my sentence but Borden could guess at what I meant.

"Right…"

At that Borden stood up straight and started walking back towards the medical tent. I was left on the floor as I wallowed in self-pity. Only thinking of what was to come. Nobody was around me. I was all alone once again. I began to cry to myself. Borden was gone and all that I could hear was the foot steps of some one coming towards me. Before I knew it there was a blood stained hand resting on my shoulder…


	8. 3am raid

South Carolina – A Patriots story

Just a note to everyone: College has started again, so I don't know if I'll be able to update as often as I have been. But I'll keep trying 

That night I didn't sleep. It tried and tried but I had no luck. I heard every little movement that went on outside my door, but I shouldn't be calling it my door,

"It's not your room, Lucy."

I kept saying over and over again to myself. I felt really uncomfortable being in some body else's room, sleeping in some body else's bed and wearing some body else's clothes. I found out that I was in fact borrowing General O'Hara's room, for he had to go away for a while with some business. I asked why his uniform didn't show his rank, but my reply was that the uniform was new and the maid hadn't sewn on the stripes yet.

I sat at his desk, under the window and silently poured through the desk draws. I hoped to find something, anything, but there was nothing in any of the draws except the top left hand draw, which was locked. I cursed at my bad luck, but then I said allowed,

"What would he keep in here? His Journal, war plans?"

But I gave up on trying to guess after maybe an hour of pondering.

There was a maid that came to check on me at about eight o'clock and brought me supper. And there it was, still on the table, untouched. Not that I didn't want to eat, I was desperately hungry, for it had been a long time since I last had food. But there was the fear in the back of mind that the food was poisoned.

It was now nearly 2 o'clock and I still could not sleep. There were only so many times you could count the ceiling tiles or stare out of the window. But now I was staring absent minded at the brass clock that stood on the fireplace.

"This is stupid…"

I took a deep breath in and walked over to the bed. I was shattered. My ribs still hurt and I could feel that the tightly bound material was starting to loosen and undo. I took of O'Hara's jacket and placed it gently on the floor. I sat down and undid my shoes, but as for the rest of my clothes, I would sleep in them.

I looked once more around the darkened room, and I was silently reminded of the room where Tavington had taken me. I shook my head at the thought, trying to clear it from my mind. But the room suddenly turned in to a white medical tent and then on to Mr Wilkins face. His words echoed in my mind.

"NO!"

I shouted and aggressively flung the nearest pillow towards the door. I breathed in deeply and felt my heart beat slow down. I knew that I was well protected, or at least I thought so. But Meggie, the maid had told me that,

"You don't need to lock your door, there's nothing here that's going to hurt you…"

After that conversation she sneakily removed the key from the door and took it with her. I had only noticed that the key was gone when I had gone to check later.

So here I was about to go to sleep in a room that wasn't mine and one that I couldn't even lock! There was nothing more that I could do. What was Meggie talking about? There was nothing that could hurt her perhaps, but then again I bet she hadn't met Wilkins yet.

I led my head down on the pillow. God it was comfortable! As much as I protested not to go to sleep and let my guard down, I couldn't help thinking at just how nice this bed felt. My eyes slowly shut and once again I was transported to the plantation, only everything wasn't right. My brother's and sisters were playing, or at least children who looked like my brothers and sisters. I did not worry about this, it was a dream and I would wake up at any moment.

And wake up I did. Just outside my door there were loud footsteps and the hurried whispers from on the landing. I didn't really have time to listen for at that moment my door flew open. I jumped up to my feet, only to have my side pulse with pain. I clutched at my side and looked at the silhouetted shape of a tall man standing in the doorway. But my description didn't help much, every man I knew was tall. At that he turned and shouted out in to the hallway,

"She's still here!"

What the hell? Where the bloody hell would I go? I have no home left to go to. There was a muffled cry from somewhere outside before the man spoke again,

"You must come with me, miss…"

With that he held out his hand as if to escort me to a fancy dinner party. I did nothing. I was not going to go with this man!

"Where are you to take me at 3 in the morning?"

I asked. Not trying to be annoying, for I was concerned. The young man can't have been in the army very long, for he seemed almost human. He stumbled and stuttered much as a young schoolboy would. Though there he was, no schoolboy, dressed in his majesty's finest colours.

"Please miss, you must come…"

I scoffed at this remark. I did not have to do anything!

"Go and tell your captain or whoever it is that sent you, that I will not be going anywhere at this time in the morning!"

He turned his head slightly at my remark and turned to the open door,

"He won't be happy you know."

He said. But I thought as he left the room, when are any of the British officers happy? I was on my feet, so I crossed over to the other side of the bed and picked up the Generals jacket up of the floor, knowing that this was not the end.

"Where is she? Won't come will she? We'll see about that!"

I knew that voice! It was the one man that I had feared ever since the moment that I first heard of his horrible nickname and the acts that followed. The "Butcher" was thundering up the wooden staircase and right in to my room.

"Come on…out!"

His eyes were almost white, even in the darkened room.

"I will not go…"

I didn't have time to finish my sentence for he had bounded across the room and was now watching me squirm as he pulled me on to my tiptoes with my hair. I let out a yelp; this was the second time in two days that I had been pulled about by my hair. Our bodies were close, extremely close. He must have been trying to intimidate me by showing just how tall he was.

"You will come with me now, or do I have to drag you?"

I didn't reply, he didn't need one for he knew that I would go with him. I wasn't comfortable about going, but I still went.

"Let go of me!"

I yelled as we went out of the door. He was proudly walking as if I was some prize bull that he had just killed, when I was struggling against his hold. Then I remembered the one thing that could help me in this; wasn't he in the medical tent with a wounded shoulder? I had to take the chance.

We were practically at the doors to the manor when I stopped struggling and put my plan in to action. I snaked around in front of him and whacked his wounded shoulder as hard as I could. This was all I needed to escape…he buckled over at the pain and let go of my hair. As soon as I was free I ran. I didn't know what I was going to do or where I was going to go, but I had to get out.

There was no frantic shouting from the Cornel. Only the light sound of him pulling back the trigger on his now unhitched pistol. He aimed at me and fired. It missed me, but not by much, for I heard the bullet whistle past my ear. The bullet had missed me, but had gathered some other attention.

"Get her!"

An annoyed Tavington shouted. I ran towards the men that now awaited me, I would have to break through them! There was Mr Wilkins in the front, looking smug as usual and behind him was Borden. I slowed down as the other dragoons surrounded me, placing me in the middle of a tightly packed circle. Wilkins stepped forward as I stopped, looking around to each and every face in the circle. I had no chance of escape.

"You were never one to do as you were told…"

He was now standing practically on top of me. My face screwed up in disgust for this man and I hit him. He was almost expecting this, for when he turned with the force of my fist he suddenly rugby tacked me to the ground. I was the one who never would have expected that! He was now on top of me, trying to restrain my flying fists that were aimed at his head. He brought his face down to the side of mine and whispered in to my ear,

"Now, now Lucy…"

"That's Miss Martin to you, traitor!"

As I began to struggle again I heard Tavington shout something to his men and the to Wilkins. He was now smelling my hair. This made me retch, not even my fiancé had smelled my hair! Wilkins couldn't have heard Tavington, for at that moment Tavington lifted Wilkins from my person and threw him to the side.

"Now you…lets try this again."

He lifted me up to his side, not by my hair, which was a blessing and gently linked arms with me, but ever so suddenly I felt his pistol pressing in to my back.

"Try it again, and I won't miss."

This was a threat and I knew he was capable of keeping his word.

We began to walk again, he led me into the camp of white tents and into a large tent about 100 yards away from the medical tent. As he pushed me through the door, I tripped and fell into him. I turned his head and sighed, almost as though he was sickened by my being. I noticed this and scoffed at his subtleness.

The tent door flapped open again and in marched Wilkins holding John. John's hands were bloodied; Wilkins must have just dragged him from the medical tent. John smiled at me, almost to reassure me that nothing was going to happen and that everything was going to be fine. I couldn't smile back, for Tavington's pistol was still pressed in to my back.

"Sit down you two. I have a couple of questions for you…"

Tavington was interrupted as Borden walked in the tent and said,

"The colonial wasn't amongst the dead…he's alive."


	9. Your Prisoner

South Carolina – A patriot's story.

**Message: Please review! It's great hearing what you guy's think. Ron.**

"Sit down you two. I have a couple of questions for you…"

Tavington was interrupted as Borden walked in the tent and said,

"The colonial wasn't amongst the dead…he's alive."

What? The colonial, what colonial? Gabriel? I had to ask, I was going to burst if I didn't.

"The colonial? Gabriel…alive!"

John put his hand on my shoulder to stop me from running into something, I felt giddy. I raised my hands to my mouth and let out a laugh, for I couldn't believe it! I no longer felt Tavington's pistol pressing in to my spine.

"Your spy of a brother seems to have escaped…"

This was said by Wilkins, he was standing just behind John, but in front of Borden. God that man made me mad! Who was bloody Mr Wilkins to be calling anyone spies?

"My brother was NOT a spy!"

I shouted at the man. I crossed over to him, so that I was mere centimetres from his face. My arms were down to my sides and that was where they were to stay. I would not fight with this man, but by god I will kill him. Wilkins did not move. Why was he not intimidated by my invasion of his personal space? John and my father had always been, but it was not working.

It was Wilkins' time to try and intimidate me. He took a step forward, if that was possible. My nerve however did not hold for long. My burst of confidence was over. I shrank back as he stepped forward again. Giving up my fighting stance I retreated to where John was standing. My eyes hit the floor in shame. I was not as strong as him.

"Not as brave as you think, my dear Lucy…"

Once he had finished, he again raised his hand to strike my face. I did not fall over at this, which was a change, for all I seemed to be doing was either crying or being thrown about by arrogant men. He smirked at the sight witch lay before him. Could he be getting some kind of a kick out of this?

"I'm going to kill you…"

I threatened. Whilst taking a deep breath in. How I was still so calm was a surprise. But really I was at their mercy. It was Borden's turn to speak up now. He however addressed Tavington, rather than the whole room,

"Sir, if Captain Wilkins is distressing Miss Martin, perhaps it would be better if we carried on the questioning without him?"

Tavington seemed to be considering this for a while, before slightly nodding in approval and saying ever so politely,

"The Major's right, Wilkins leave us…"

The face that Wilkins pulled at hearing this order was priceless. I smirked and sat down at one of the chairs that stood behind the table, before adding,

"You, Butcher, are distressing me. Will you also leave?"

This came out exactly the way that I wanted it to. John made a 'you shouldn't have said that' face, as he watched Tavington cross over to his fiancé. He bent down, intimately close to her face and said,

"I could easily arrange for your removal, with another little out burst like that I will have a reason to do it."

His voice was little more than a whisper but Lucy seemed convinced as the Butcher pulled away from her. John let out a sigh of relief at this, one that Tavington noticed. He kept his eyes on John as he pulled around so he was standing in front of my chair, his body facing me. He smirked at John before once again bending down, resting his hand on the chairs arms and bring his face too close to mine.

I pulled back as far as I could, but the back of the chair was stopping me from running out of the tent. I noticed that Tavington didn't look at me at all. He kept his eyes on John the whole time. He took a deep breath in and addressed John,

"What's the matter doctor? Don't you like other men being this close to your fiancé?"

I gave a gasp. How did he know? Tavington turned to face me, his eyes looking in to mine, almost as though he was staring in to my soul. I wanted to look away, but I couldn't. I was caught in the web of his icy eyes.

"Oh, yes Miss Martin. I know about you and our good doctor…"

I was speechless! I didn't know what to say. But then it hit me. Why hadn't I told anyone that I was engaged to John, was I ashamed? I had to know how he knew! But John was silent. I stuttered and mumbled, but all that was recognizable was,

"How…?"

This time I looked down. Ashamed with myself for not saying anything sooner.

"The doctor came to me with concerns for your safety. He was afraid that I had done more to you than what I had the night you came here."

I looked disgusted at the remark; I must have because Tavington continued,

"I assured him that nothing had happened to you, but he was quite unconvinced…"

I looked up from the floor in to John's sad eyes. There obviously was more to the story than what I had been told. John shifted under my gaze and opened his mouth to speak but no sound came out. Tavington saw this as another chance to continue,

"I questioned the doctor after hearing this surprising news, and he told me that you two have been engaged for little more than two years…now two years seems an awfully long time to be without the man you love, doesn't it Miss Martin?"

I didn't answer, just stared blankly at the floor once again. I heard his words playing over and over in my mind. Tavington was right. I can't have loved John for I would have married him long before now. Then suddenly out of the blue Borden spoke from the back of the tent,

"Do you love him, Lucy?"

He must have been listening to the conversation all along for the back of the dingy tent. I looked at him, but could not find the words.

"She has never loved me…"

This was almost as unexpected as when Borden spoke. John was now standing tall, his eyes pulling mine to them. He looked saddened, but at the same time he looked as though a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders from finally saying out loud what he had known for a while. He weakly smiled at me, but I could not return it. Tavington who was still perched the to top the chair and leaning over me, sighed.

"Oh, this is a sad story…Borden, please escort the Doctor back to the medical tent to finish working. You are then dismissed for the night."

Borden, who didn't look happy, still obeyed his officer's command. He rested his hand on John's shoulder. John took one last glance towards me and then nodded to Borden as they both left the tent, leaving me alone with Tavington.

This time, I was not afraid of being with him. I felt awful for John, I knew that he loved me and that there was no way I could return it. Tavington gently lifted himself from my chair and placed himself in the chair opposite me. I couldn't look at him,

"No tears? I can see your not heart broken at your fiancé leaving you…"

"You know nothing of it! How dare you presume to know me, you are my captor, and I am your prisoner!"

I shouted rising from my chair slightly. He looked neither taken back, or frightened, why he would be frightened of me was a mystery, but he was amused. I no longer felt like the strong person I thought I once was. I sank back in to my chair and began to sob. Then Tavington began, almost gently,

"Stop your crying. There are question's that need answering…"


	10. Sleep

Message: Hello to my faithful readers…sorry it's been like, forever since I last updated, but I've been soooo bogged down with college work. I've just finished 3 assignments so I should have some free time. Enjoy this chapter…Ron.

That night seemed to drag, it was by far the longest night I could remember ever having, and that is saying a lot the amount of nights I had to stay up nursing one of my younger siblings. I was in my own little world, back on the plantation where I belonged with my brothers and sisters. Thomas was still alive and Gabrielle was out of the army.

None of that however, was true. I was being held prisoner in an British army base, instead of being at home. I had no idea where Father and my other brothers and sisters were. And the painful reality of my other brothers came flooding back to me as the morning sun drowns the surrounding darkness. Thomas was dead. Gabrielle was alive but being hunted, by the one man who was sitting in front of me. The same man who had taken me from my home and who had beaten me to something barley alive.

This man was the famous "Butcher". This man was Cornel William Tavington.

As his fist made yet another dent in the table, which sat in between us, I jumped slightly as I was jolted back to the dingy little tent. It was now nearly dawn, for I could see the little light seeping in to the tent.

Tavington was starting to get annoyed with me. I had answered about 1000 questions, all about my family, my home, our neighbours, our friends and even about the where abouts of General Washington himself. Tavington didn't seem to surprised that I didn't know the answer to the last question, for I was so tiered I could barley remember my own name. It was only the fact that he kept shouting it at me that I remembered.

My head was resting on my hands as I leant over the table to rest. Tavington's shouting had no effect on me anymore. It was like a horrid drone that just won't go away. I heard noise out side the tent and tried to block that out as well. I closed my eyes to try and yet again escape. Surly Tavington could see that I had to sleep.

I heard Tavington leaning back in his chair, maybe he had gotten my very subtle message at last. He didn't say anything, but then I suppose he must have been tired as well. I smiled in to my hands as I slowly drifted in to an unconscious state.

I can't have slept for very long, for when I was rudely pulled from slumber the dawn still hadn't filled the tent. There were two men talking outside. They weren't talking in hushed voices either, so they must have sill thought me asleep.

I braved looking up from beneath my untidy hair. I looked around the tent, Tavington was gone and I was completely alone. Then the two voices boomed through the morning air again.

"Anything, sir?"

"Nothing…she's one of the most stubborn women I have ever met."

The second voice was Tavington. But that still left the first. It sounded familiar, but I still couldn't place it with a name. But the first voice continued…

"You don't really think she knows, do you?"

"Of course not, but I like to see her squirm…"

"Then, sir, please will you let Dr Porter see her. He still thinks…"

"No…our doctor is not allowed to see her…"

"But Sir…"

"Do I make myself clear, Borden?"

He didn't wait for a reply before continuing,

"By God man, do you have feelings for the girl? Go and fetch Captain Wilkins, he knows how to deal with people like her…"

There was a long silence before footsteps could be heard moping away. I could now see a shadow of a man out side. It must have been Tavington for the shadow showed a tall, proud man with little morels and no kindness. But before long, there was the sound of two people thundering along out side.

The tent door swung open and my breath caught in my throat, for in front of me stood Captain Wilkins with a malicious grin on his face.


	11. My Hero

**Message: Another short chapter for you…**

Wilkins stood there with a malicious grin pasted to his face. My heart, I could hear thumping in my ears…this was not good. His body was silhouetted against the tent door. There was now a weak light pouring in to the tent from behind him. I was sitting in the same wooden chair and leaning over the same wooden table as before, but I felt that I couldn't move. I was glued to the spot. Anticipation and dread mixed with hate was all that I could feel as I looked at the man that I had sworn to kill.

Not once did his grin falter as he slowly marched his way in to the middle of the tent, letting the tent door flap shut with an echoing noise. My breathing quickened and my palms became moist and I'm pretty sure that my pupils would have been fully dilated with fright as I watched the man in front of me.

This must have been a plan; Tavington had kept me up all the following night when Wilkins slept, so that in the morning I would be too exhausted to fight back. And that was the unhappy truth. I was too tired. I could hardly keep my eyes open and my head up. While Wilkins looked ready for anything, refreshed and awake.

Wilkins was smiling at my state. I was still hunched over the hard wooden table, but my eyes were as alert as ever of his sly movements around me. He let out a small chuckle as he sat, noisily, down on to the chair, which Tavington had sat on only moments before. He made himself comfortable, as he gently crossed one leg over the other, never once taking his eyes off me. I never once stared at his eyes, for mine would give away my look of fear.

I looked up at his unwelcome presence and at the moment my eyes reached his, I felt a shudder down my spine and, what seemed like, in to my very soul. It was then that I realised that I was not afraid of Tavington, not anymore. I was however, afraid of Wilkins. He now seemed a thousand times more terrible than Tavington could ever be. I lifted myself of the table and sat back in my chair, as though I was trying to seem a worthy opponent for Wilkins. I knew and by the looks of it so did he, that I was not. His head tilted to the side and he let out a long breath before saying,

"Pity your father doesn't care about you…"

Then he stopped. Was he trying to provoke something in me? Did he want me to bite back? Did I have the strength? On the last account, No. I decided on saying nothing and mealy continuing to stare at him. He began again, this time on a different note,

"I bet John's glad he finally got shot of you, why would he want an obnoxious little whore for a wife?"

I bit my tongue and clenched my fists. He wanted to see me react. He was provoking me. Wanting me to give him a reason to hurt me. I don't know if I can stand any more of this…these were touchy subjects. But Wilkins, seeing this continued yet again,

"And now it seems that our very own Major Borden has his eye on you…tell me would Borden want a broken wife?"

I didn't know what he meant. What did he mean about Borden? Was Wilkins trying to confuse me? It was certainly working if he was. As I was thinking, the same smirk returned to his face. He rose from his chair and came to stand behind me. I didn't follow him with my eyes this time. I was deep in thought, staring blankly in front of me. I didn't feel my loose hair being brushed of my shoulders by Wilkins.

"What a beautiful girl…"

As the words left his mouth, I was no longer in my own thought. I was very much in the situation that was happening to me.

Wilkins' lips pressed roughly against my neck as his hand clenched my shoulder.

I shot up out of my seat, faster than I had ever done in my life. My knee collided against the table leg and a sharp pain coursed from my knee. I surprised myself at my swiftness. I was tried, but now I felt wide-awake and conscious of what had just happened. I wanted to get as far away from this man as I could.

However, as there was only a chair in between Wilkins and myself, he quickly caught hold of my shoulder and spun me around to face him. The chair was discarded on the floor, and I felt the edge of the table pressing in to my lower back as Wilkins pushed me hard to stop me from running.

"Borden!"

I shouted, fear pulsating through my body. This is not suppose to happen…I am suppose to be at home on the plantation with the rest of my family, not hear with no one by bloody Wilkins for company.

"Don't you touch me!"

I yelled in to Wilkins face as he continued to hold me tight.

Panic must have been written across all of my body, for when the tent door suddenly flapped open, there stood my hero, looking furious…


	12. Borden

**Message: Sorry again, for not righting…I need to have more reviews! It's not a great feeling when you see how many reviews some people have and the compare them to your own. It's doesn't take long to review, so please do. Ron.**

It was indeed Major Borden standing at the tent flap. And he did look furious! Wilkins was still practically on top of me, pinning me to the wooden table, but as he saw Borden looking at him, Wilkins released his grip on me. This was a relief.

Borden crossed over to us, but didn't do anything. Wilkins didn't even straighten up when his superior walked in to the room, (if indeed you could class a tent as a room).

Borden stood there, his hands together and hid behind his back. He leaned over Wilkins, so that he could make his whispered voice heard. I could feel Wilkins breath becoming faster, at the obvious thought of trouble.

"Captain, we talked about this earlier…"

Borden stated, it was clear that he wasn't going to say anything else on the matter.

Wilkins took a deep breath in, which in result pressed against me pushing me further in to the table. Wilkins was contemplating what to do.

Borden shot him a look that could have killed the strongest worrier. That was the sort of look that demanded the respect from all of his men. Again, when I was trapped underneath the waste of space that was Wilkins, I marvelled at how good a leader Borden was. He wasn't just a good leader, he was a great leader…it was the rest of the British army that let the side down.

Wilkins shifted his weight, and I could finally move my arms. As soon as arms were free, I directed one of them at Wilkins's head. It collided with a loud _clunk. _Wilkins was thrown, not across the room (unfortunately) but a way over the table, which allowed me to get to my feet, and fumble with things; straightening my dress and pulling my hair etc. The things you only do when embarrassed or in an awkward situation. I would not stop this until Wilkins was out of the room.

Wilkins straightened up to his full height. He towered over Borden, but Borden didn't seem intimidated by his height, as I had been. Wilkins didn't look at Borden or at me, but directed his gaze to the floor. Borden still had his hand tucked neatly behind his back. He looked surprisingly calm, but I'm sure that one false move and he would snap.

It was then that the major took up his stance as an officer and leader.

"Eye's off the ground, Wilkins…"

Wilkins obliged immediately. I could see that their hate ran deeper than I knew. But at the end of the day, Borden was a ranking officer, higher than Wilkins, and Wilkins would be a fool if he didn't do what Borden said. I could see the pain in Wilkins face at obeying Borden's command. Usually this would strike something in me, I always tried to play fair, but I didn't feel an ounce of pity for Wilkins. I was enjoying watching this humiliation, it was no more than Wilkins deserved.

"We have spoken about this before…"

Borden was waiting for a response, but none came. Wilkins didn't look scared of Borden, but he would not utter a word in the major's presence. Borden however continued, a vein pulsating in his left temple.

"Do you want to be flogged, man? Well, do you?" Still no response, so he once again continued…

"Get out of my site. NOW!"

Wilkins scurried away, like a dog with his tail between his legs. He would not bee crossing Borden again for a while. He had been threatened with flogging. It was, or so I was told, a fate worse than death. It was where you were strapped to a wooden triangle, with a leather pad around your lower back, and whipped until you had no skin left on your back…of course you only got the leather pad if they wanted you to live, if you didn't, your kidneys would be ripped to shreds.

I shuddered at the horrific thought…Borden was still looking at the swaying tent flap, as though he was expecting someone to come running in. It was as I shuddered, that Borden ripped his eyes away from the tent flap. I was not crying, although I could still feel where the salty tears had stained my face.

Borden walked over to me, and embraced me tight. I hugged him back after I got over the shock of his boldness. I was determined not to cry. I would not shed another tear as a result of Wilkins.

I could feel Borden's heard beating beneath my ear, and I was sure that I felt a single tear, fall on to the back of my neck. I only gripped Borden tighter. I felt that he needed me at the moment, even though I was the reason of this one stray tear.

He eventually pulled back from me and looked me dead in the eyes, his hands still holding on to my arms, as though afraid to let me go. He spoke softly, every trace of that rogue tear gone…maybe I had imagined it, but I was sure that it had happened.

"I'm so sorry, Lucy…"

He began, but I hushed him by pressing a finger to his lips. He took a long and laboured breath, as though trying to commit this moment to memory.

"Please, I just want to sleep…"

And with that, he slid a supportive arm around my waist, and walked me out of the tent and towards at last, some peaceful rest.


	13. Jane

**Message: Another chapter for you…enjoy and plaese review. Ron.**

I must have slept for at least two days…

I was shattered after the previous events of the last few days. I was staying in Borden's tent, for that had been where he had taken me the last time I could remember being fully conscious.

Borden had never left my side…or at least I don't think he did. Every time I woke up he was there, telling me to go back to sleep. I didn't protest much because I was so unbelievably tired. Every time I woke up though, Borden had looked like hell.

It was not yet noon when I woke up, for I could see the sun in the sky shining through the tents canvas roof. It was lonely in the tent, and this time Borden was not there. I looked around frantically for any sign of him, but found none.

The tent was plain, there was a small military cot bed in the one corner, which I occupied and against the other side of the tent stood a hard wooden desk with hundreds of important looking papers strewn over it. My eyes stung with the idea of being open after nearly two days of being asleep. I squinted around again, for my vision was still blurred.

I sat up in the cot and felt my face. The swelling had gone down dramatically, my face felt almost normal again. My breathing did not hurt anymore. I could no longer feel the tight bandages that were keeping my broken ribs in place, against my body anymore. This was a blessing. I was getting better. The only pain I felt was in my knee and a slight pain in my right hand. But the memory of the source of the pain was quickly returning to me.

The other night, before I went to sleep, Wilkins had surprised me and I had leapt from my seat, hitting my knee on the table and my hand…well I had hit enough men in the last few days to justify that pain. I thought of Wilkins and my breathing quickened. I had sworn to kill him, and kill him I will, if it is the last thing I ever do, I will stand over him and laugh as he takes his last dying breath…

My plotting and scheming was interrupted when I heard someone outside the tent. Their shadow was steadily growing on the inside of the tent wall…

They were right outside now…someone was reaching for the tent flap. They looked behind their shoulder and quickly drew back the tent flap.

I couldn't see who it was, for sunlight poured in to the tent and right in to my eyes. It was blinding me slowly… but that I could put up with. There was someone in the tent with me.

The tent door flapped shut and I rubbed my eyes trying to get them to adjust to the now minimal amount of light that was in the tent. I saw the out line of, strangely enough not a man…it was a women.

I must have looked stunned for when she spoke she said,

"By God, you look live you've seen a ghost…are you alright dear?"

I shook my head, trying to organize my thoughts…there was a strange woman in the tent, not three feet away from me. She had called me dear, and she had a strong British accent. She looked as though she was in her mid forties. But she had a kind face and hadn't tried to kill me.

She smiled gently and sat down at the bottom of my bed, looking kindly in to my eyes. I must have still looked shocked for she tutted and continued talking,

"I keep forgetting we haven't been introduced…"

She smiled again, as though waiting for me to say something…

"My name is Jane, I've been looking in on you for the past couple of days to make sure you were alright…"

Again she paused…what did she want me to say?

"Why do you not speak, child?"

This was not a question, but an invitation, no an order to speak. She must have been getting annoyed by now.

I cleared my throat to speak, but my mouth was so dry, that I couldn't form words properly. Jane must have seen this futile attempt on my part to try and be polite and answer her question, so she reached over to the desk and poured me a cup of water out of the jug that lay there. She handed me the cup, and I was careful not to snatch it away from her. But I was so thirsty. It had been two days since I last drank and I was parched.

I gently took the cup she offered me and I almost downed it in one, my ladylike attitude out of the tents, nonexistent window. I coughed before I began talking, my American accent clashing with her strong British one,

"I'm sorry for seeming impolite, but why are you here?"

Jane threw her head back and laughed, it was the sort of laugh that you knew was fake. This unexpected action from this woman perched at the bottom of my bed, startled me and I jumped slightly.

"My dear girl…I am here to check that you are alright and when awake to lead you back to the manor."

This was startling news…why was she concerned about me, we had never met and what was that about going back to the manor. When I was last there I had been dragged out of it by Tavington at three in the morning.

"Why am I to go to the manor?" I asked curiously.

"Well, it's not right for a young lady to sleep in tents, in a pair of breeches…it is most unladylike."

At this she tilted her head downwards slightly and then added,

"Plus, I'm sure Major Borden would like his tent back, as kind a heart as he is, he cannot do without sleep…"

"Where is Borden?" I asked before I could stop myself. I regretted saying it as soon as I said it.

The look which was not pasted on to dear Jane's face was classic. She was annoyed. Seriously annoyed.

"Major Borden has very important things to do, it is not your concern where the man is…"

I was silent. I may have gone to far this time. I had never met and English woman before, but I had heard that they were not as temperamental as the men, but unlike the men, women would not hit one another, it was most unfashionable. A smile came to my face as I thought of the last sentence. But before I could do anything else, Jane had gotten up from the bottom of the bed and was now busy straightening her very expensive dress. She turned to me and calmly said,

"Come child…we must get on, Arthur will be waiting…"

I got, clumsily out of bed and on to my feet. I could not find my shoes, but I would not waste time looking for them now. Curiosity overtook me as Jane held the tent flap open for me to follow her,

"Excuse me, but who is Arthur?"

"Arthur? He's my husband. I am the Mrs Lord General Cornwallis…"

And with that, I set of to the manor, walking in step with the Lord Generals wife, Jane.


	14. Back to Borden

Message: Sorry it's been forever (again). I need more review's people…enjoy the chapter. Ron.

The last few days had been strange…but I had a feeling that it wasn't going to stop. Now that Mrs Lord General Cornwallis, or "Jane" as I was told to call her, was in my life, I couldn't make sense of anything…god this was frustrating.

I had come up to the manor early this morning, and so far, I had been shown to my room… which was coincidentally next to Charles' room. I had been given some new cloths…all very fashionable, but very scary. And I had had tea with "Jane" and her husband…

"Jane tells me that you are an accomplished player on the piano…"

The Lord General addressed me. God he was pompous, sitting there in his expensive cloths, in his expensive chair, drinking imported tea in his bone china cups. I was trying very hard not to glare at this man…he was very powerful.

But as those words slipped from his mouth, I felt my jaw drop…as well as my own china cup. With a loud CLUNK my cup hit the floor and shattered into millions of little pieces. I immediately got up from my chair, dropped to my knees, and tried to pick up some of the pieces.

"Dear lord! What are you doing? Get up of the floor…you'll ruin your dress!"

I didn't look back. Lady Jane had spoken to me. I felt a hand on my shoulder, but I still kept my eyes to the floor. I was concentrating on the task in hand. But then "Jane spoke again…

"Come now, Lucy darling. You don't want to ruin your dress…"

"I don't care about the dress!"

I said in an undertone…but it was still loud enough for the room to hear. I heard a slight mumble of,

"Well I never…"

Come from Lady Jane. I knew that she would have said something, if the Lord General hadn't have beaten her to it…but what was said was not what I was expecting,

"Ah, Tavington! Come in…"

The door was open and all that I saw was a tall shadow in the doorway. Even though I didn't look up I could tell that Tavington had a smirk pasted on his features. He began to walk forward, his spurs clashing against the hard wooden floor. I was frozen to the spot.

"Ah, is our dear Lucy on the floor, yet again?"

"It's Miss Martin to you…"

I could feel the smirk fleeing from his face.

"Lucy! Corneal Tavington is a high-ranking officer. Apologise at once!"

That's likely to happen I thought to myself. Who was bloody "Jane" to tell me what to do. She wasn't my mother…

I felt my eyes fill up…I was becoming choked up. I felt the smallest cry escape my mouth, as I fell to the floor, in a heap. I brought my hands to my face, to hide it more than anything. This was pathetic! I hadn't cried over my mother in…well I had never cried over my mother. I had to be strong for Margaret, and the others. Oh God…WHY? I could feel myself becoming hysterical!

"Jane! Do something!"

I heard Cornwallis plea with his wife. I could only just hear this, over the sobbing.

"Arthur, what could I possibly do?"

"Comfort her…take her to her room…anything!"

It was something about "Jane" that almost repelled the idea of her comforting anyone. She had probably had someone to do everything for her, so that she didn't have to do a thing…then I heard it, only just.

"William…would you?"

I looked out from under my security which was my hands. His face showed no sign of emotion. He didn't look annoyed or happy, though why he would be happy was a mystery. He sighed and walked over to me. He did the one thing that I didn't expect…he didn't try and force me up. He gently picked me up and let me cry in to his uniform. His hands felt strong and safe…wait a minute! What was I thinking? This was Tavington! The Butcher! But, as he walked out of the room, he said to me, with a kind tone,

"Borden will be pleased to see you…"


	15. Secrets

Message: Sorry the last one was soooo short, but I wanted to get something, anything up and posted. It's been too long since I posted my last chapter. OK. Enjoy. Ron.

Borden was indeed pleased to see me, but was not however pleased to see me being carried by the man who had captured me in the first place. I was being carried back in to the camp by the notorious "Butcher", William Tavington.

We were heading towards a tent, whose I was unsure of, but to me they all looked the same. Borden was walking towards a similar looking white tent, as we passed him. His normal cheerful look, was soon replaced by one of worry and sadness, mixed with a little bit of exhaustion.

"Sir?…."

Borden asked as we walked passed him. His voice was ever so slightly shaky. Tavington however, ignored the major and continued towards the tent, which on reflection looked more grey than white. Borden did not follow after us, but continued on his way towards the other tent.

I never looked up from the depths of Tavington's chest, as the tent flap was pulled open. We stepped in to the tent, and I looked up and saw, a small cot in the corner and another paper strewn desk against the wall. This was very much like the major's tent, but it did not have the same warm atmosphere. I was in Tavington's tent…

"Where are we?"

I braved from the "butchers" chest, all though I already knew. I looked around, a mixture of panic and worry written across my face. He must have seen this for he led me over to the cot and set me down on it. He stepped back and,

"Get some rest…I'll come back for you in an hour or two…"

"Tavington!"

I shouted before I could help myself. What I had planned to say, was quickly wiped from my mind as his stare met mine. His cold icy eyes almost drawing me to them.

"Please…I would like to see Major Borden. If that's alright."

I added as an after thought, trying not to seem too demanding. But Tavington did not take too well to orders. His nice and kind appearance quickly gone. His eyes filled with the same white rage that had fuelled them so many times before.

I had stopped crying a while ago, all though I felt that I could very well start again soon. He was a scary man when angry…no he was dam scary all the time. He crossed back over to where he had left me, and strode right in to my personal space. This was the most intimidated I had felt in a long time. Tavington was dangerously close to my face now. I didn't try to fight him this time, he looked too angry.

"Now let me tell you something about your precious Borden…"

His face pressing even closer to mine, if that was at all possible. I felt my heart beat quicken and adrenaline flood my veins. Before he continued,

"Don't get too cosy towards him…"

"And why not!"

I bravely announced. His hands pounded down on either side of me.

"Because our little Borden's got his own fiancée waiting for him back in England! Or did he conveniently forget to mention that to you?"

WHAT! Did he want an answer? I was completely shocked! I couldn't speak! I couldn't breath properly. And I could feel myself shaking, despite myself. I once again felt my eyes fill up with tears…

Tavington got up and out of my personal space. He stood tall over me and laughed! He laughed with a malicious smirk. God he was pleased with himself at what he had just done.

What did I feel towards Borden? Did I ever think that something would happen between Borden and myself? I was kidding myself? I must have been. Nothing was going to happen, nothing was going to happen now anyway. Why hadn't he told me? But then again what was it my business whether Borden had a fiancée or not?

Tavington, once again the horrid monster that I had always thought he was. He walked out of the tent and left me to wallow in my own self-pity. I cried more than I had over my mother, my brother or my situation. I couldn't believe this; I was behaving like a child, a spoiled one at that.

But at that moment, as I was crying into my knees, the tent flap swung forward, I looked up my eyes all blurry and stinging with tears. There stood the silhouetted figure of none other than Captain Wilkins…

"Oh, what a sad situation…"

He began, but I was seriously not in the mood to deal with this pig of a man before me. I squawked before I could hold it in, my voice just as shaky as my mood.

"Leave me alone…you…you!"

I couldn't think of anything else to say to this man. He looked a little bit taken aback by my sudden out burst of confidence. He left with out question, the tent flap rattling wildly.

I heard hurried voices and the sound of running footsteps from outside the tent. Once again the tent flap opened and there stood, Borden, looking more worried about me than before. I looked out at him. Fury filling up my very soul.

"Lucy…are you…"

He began before I could stop him. I got, shakily to my feet and shouted, ripping my throat in the process,

"GET OUT!"

"Lucy, I…?"

"I DON'T WANT TO TALK TO YOU!"

"Lucy, what are you talking about?"  
"I'll tell you shall I? Your fiancée waiting for you?"

There was no emotion in his face. He didn't even seem to care. But his face could have shown his own shock at my statement.

"Lucy, let me explain…"

This was not going to happen! Not now! I once again shouted,

"Get out, you bastard!"

"Lucy?"

"I never want to see you again!"

And at that I collapsed on to the small little cot and hid my face in my knees. The sound of Borden retreating back out of the tent was refreshing to my ears.

I must have cried myself to sleep, again. I couldn't believe my luck, this was not fair. This was not supposed to happen, this was not suppose to happen to me.


	16. Bloodstains and heartache

**A/N: I am sooooo unbelievably sorry that it has taken me an eternity to update! The truth was that after my last chapter, I was completely out of idea's. So here's the next one, dedicated to my mate Emma, who has been pestering me to get another chapter up and the end bit's to please her. Enjoy…**

There was no sun that morning. No sun to awake me from my deep sleep, no sun for me to curse at for waking me. I was in South Carolina…there was always sun. I was on my family's plantation, sitting on the porch with Susan in my arms. She must have only been young. I looked around, there was Meg teaching William his letters on the other side, and I could hear the playful sound of Nathan and Samuel in the distant fields. This was a perfect day. This was my heaven, my sanctuary. This was as far away from reality as it could have been…

I awoke to the abrupt sound of hurried voices outside. They were men's voices, British ones at that, and one's that I could not recognise. In a sweep of fury, my memories vanished and were replaced by the horrid truth that now stood before me. I was a prisoner. I was a prisoner in a British camp a hundred miles away from home. The only comfort I had was that there was one kind man here, who cared for me. But that man had turned out to be a liar…

Major Borden had not come see me since that night that I found out he was engaged. That was nearly two weeks ago. So I had to content myself with General O'Hara's company. He wasn't so bad, after you got past the spoiled little rich boy that he was. He often talked of his home, and that only served to make me upset again. So, different topics of conversation were scarce, we normally talked about the weather, which I was led to understand is a very British thing to talk about.

The voices once muffled and inaudible, turned load and clear as their owners obviously moved closer to my tent. Yes, my tent. I had been given my own at the far edge of the camp. Just outside the hospital tent and only a short walk away from the manor.

This would be another day of constantly looking over my shoulder to see if there was anyone in sight. I did not want to accidentally bump into Borden on one of my many little strolls. I had heard from Charles that he had asked to see me, but Charles, knowing what my opinion, declined. Why I didn't want to see him I don't know. I had tried to convince myself that I felt nothing for him, but I couldn't kid myself. I had felt more for Major Borden than I had for John Porter, even though it was cruel to finally admit it to myself, for I had been engaged to John for just over two years.

The two voices drew nearer and I could finally see their shadows on the side of the tent wall. They had muskets on their shoulders and they looked as though they were smoking from pipes. The one laughed suddenly and hit the other playfully on the shoulder. I couldn't hear what they were laughing at but as I watched them hurriedly putting out their pipes, I heard the source of noise that had caused them to move.

"Privates…get in line now! We're about to start!" Oh joy…it was Wilkins shouting.

The two men who were just outside my tent straightened up and saluted their superior officer. They must have been the new recruits that Charles had talked about for the last week or more. They must have arrived last night, for I can't remember seeing them before. The two privates relaxed and hurried away, shoving their pipes into their pockets as they went.

I had been here, in this camp for nearly a month…I had lost count of the exact time. I had been a prisoner for a month, now. But still a prisoner who can walk around freely without the pleasure of armed guards. I still however had to endure the Lady Jane's company whether I liked it or not. I had told Charles that I didn't want to see her, but he had insisted, saying that it was good for me to get to know her, and that it was good for her, to have some female company. I was not, no where near ready to see her today…

I sat up and pulled on my boots. I had gone back to wearing Charles' spare uniform, for I felt really uncomfortable in all the highly fashionable dresses that Jane almost insisted that I wear. Charles thought it highly amusing. He said that he had never known a lady who did not like wearing ladies things. I had replied, that I gave up every right to being a lady as soon as I became a prisoner. Charles had no reply to this and for that I was thankful.

I took a long, deep sigh as I pulled my jacket over my shoulders. I would have to face the world sometime I thought to myself and today might be the day. I pulled my blonde hair into a messy braid and tied it with a leather band, it hung down into my lower back.

Stepping up to the tent door I listened. Listened to any sign of movement coming from the outside world. My tent, after all was my refuse, my salvation from reality. There was no sound. No sign of any life, so I braced myself, ready to face whatever was awaiting me.

I pulled back the tent flap and peered out. All I saw was the same mass of white tents surrounding me. There were a few more on my one side pointing to the manor. They must belong to the new recruits. I didn't ponder on it for long, for Wilkinson's voice became known, booming over the sea of tents. He must have been in the square.

I found my way out of the maze of tents and found myself at the side of the square, watching with interest the scene that stood before me. There must have been 35-40 men. All wearing sparkling new red uniforms, all brandishing shining new muskets and all pointing in the same direction, looking at the same thing.

Wilkinson stood at the head of the square, looking very pompous in his full uniform. He had a cane that he was using to lean on. He was, no doubt trying to look the part. He was barking orders for the new recruits, getting them to face different ways and how to look whilst doing it. This must have been the recruit's first drilling exercise, for some of them were making a very bad job at it.

"Good! I think that's enough drill practice for today…let's move on."

That man was nauseating! I could feel my stomach turning just from looking at him. It was then that I noticed his hat…it was tall, black and FURY! It looked as though there was a dead skunk on top of it! I let out a laugh that I couldn't hold in if I tried. It wasn't loud, but it was loud enough for Wilkinson to notice. He glared at me. I just looked him straight in the eye, challenging him. I could tell that some of the recruits were dying to look around, but all of them kept their heads facing forward, like good little boys. But then Wilkinson's brutal tone returned one that he didn't use with the recruits. It seemed that he saved it just for me.

"Martin! We're about to start shooting practice…don't fancy being a target do you?" He had a grin pasted on his features.

"No, I think I'll have to pass…but I'm sure you could get Borden to do it for you. Or maybe Tavington, I'm sure you'll be able to persuade him…you did after all sweet talk your way into this army." I replied with an equal smirk.

His grin vanished and not only anger filled his eyes…there was embarrassment there too. But with that I turned on my heel and started trying to find the medical tent. I had to talk to John. He was the only one who could know what I was feeling.

After almost 20 minutes of searching I found it. It was the only tent with bloodstains on the side. This should have been enough to put me off going in there, but after the skirmish at the plantation, blood no longer had an effect on me, unless of course it was my own. I found my way to the door and opened it. The tent was empty, apart from a few soldiers who were healing in the cots at the other end.

This was strange…John was always in the medical tent. He practically lived there! To see him wandering around the camp was unusual, but to find the medical tent empty was shocking! Where was he? He could have been called out to someone who couldn't be moved, but these soldiers would move any man, dying or not.

I moved into the upper part of the tent, towards the cots full of men slowly healing from the wounds of war. Some of them were full of bandages and others were hiding themselves inside of their blankets, trying to keep out the cold. It wasn't particularly cold for the time of year, but if you were sick then you probably felt it more.

There was one man, in the top most cot, without any blankets and in full uniform. He didn't look hurt for he had no bandages. I couldn't see his face as he was turned to the side. But some how I knew…

My breathing quickened and I could feel myself turning to run away. I was not ready to face this man again! I was completely turned around, my eyes facing the door to the tent. All I had to do was to run…run and I would be away from here! I closed my eyes, trying to see anything on the insides of my eyelids, anything that could tell me what to do, to guide me! But nothing came! Dam it! Why was I so completely useless? Why did nothing ever happen when I wanted it to? All I wanted to do was to get out of this tent, but that seemed to be the one thing that I just could not do! WHY?

In my fit of confusion and self-loathing I failed to hear the gentle sound of the man getting up from the cot and crossing over to me. It was only when I felt his warm hand press on my shoulder that I came out of my little world and surrendered my guard. I was longing for the feel of his hands. His presence was enough to make me go weak at the knees. But then his calming voice whispered in my ear…

"Lucy…god I'm sorry…" I could feel the effect of these words sinking in as I stood there, completely paralysed to the spot. I felt like crying, no surprise there, I thought to myself. There was so many different things flying through my head at top speed that none of it I could make out. However Borden continued…

"I never meant to hurt you…I…I never meant to feel like this for you…" What was he saying? Was he saying that he had feelings for me? Is that why he never told me about his fiancée in England?

I took a deep breath in and muttered, "What about John? He'll be back soon…" Why was I thinking about John when Borden was here confessing his heart? Did Borden just need time to lick his wounds as I had done? Was this why he hadn't said anything before? But Borden replied by turning me around so that I was facing him. It was then that I once again realised how tall he actually was. It was a lot easier to keep from crying when I wasn't looking at him, looking at him only made it worse and soon it got too much. I felt the stinging of tears in eyes that refuse to cry.

The tension in his hands tightened on my shoulders as he muttered with a grin…"Oh, bother John!" And with that he leaned forward and kissed me with more passion than I had ever known. A girls first kiss…her first love…her first heartache.


	17. Bloody Men!

**A.N. Again sorry for taking soooo long, but college has been hectic! I've had loads of assignments to give in all at the same time, but I had an idea and I couldn't leave it on the side. So here I am, typing this for you guy's when I should be doing my work  Enjoy the chapter, I particularly enjoyed writing it. Ron.**

His lips were sweet against my own. I had secretly longed for the feel of them, but now that it was here, all I could think about was John! What if he just walked in? How would he react? Would I care? Ten thousand questions and absolutely no answers, it was folly, it was ridicules!

I felt like a ten year old school girl, not a 19 year old, strong-minded, independent woman! After what seemed like only a split second, I felt Borden's arms snake their way up my back, pressing me to him. I panicked! No one had ever been this close to me before! My arms found themselves on his chest, and pushed him back from me…

I didn't see the look on his face after we broke apart form each other, for as soon as he was away from me I turned and faced the door. I was embarrassed. How could I have let him take advantage! The worst part was that I had enjoyed it!

My hand was covering my mouth as I tried to hold back the tears and I was shaking my head. I was so stupid! I had made myself vulnerable to him, AGAIN! I could hear him catching his breath behind me, before questioning,

"Lucy?…" his hand once again found it's way to rest in my shaking shoulder. My shoulder vaulted at his touch, causing him to retract his hand. I couldn't look at him…fear of what I would find carved into his eyes. Would I see sadness, hurt, anger, frustration, confusion or longing?

Tears threatened my stinging eyes, but I would not cry! I would not let him see how much he had effected me. He tried to speak again, but this time keeping his hands to himself. I however could not listen to whatever he has to say. I knew what I had to do, but I also knew what I wanted. Reason overtook longing and I fled.

I just walked out of the bloodstained medical tent and into the morning air. The sun was bright in my face and I had to squint to see in front of me. I raised my hand so it was resting over my eyes, and once again tried to look ahead of me. No use! Why was this dam sun so bright? I stamped my foot, like a spoiled 6 year old would, and I was reminded of my sister Meg when she was growing up.

Memories began to flood back to me, memories of my family left behind. No, not today! I had already had my ride on the emotional roller coaster for today and I was not up for another!

I could feel my face begin to flush as anger overtook me. Why was I so upset? But as that thought flew through my mind, I heard a muffled yell from back inside the medics tent…it must have been Borden. He must have been as angry as I felt! For I then heard the sound of a foot colliding with a desk, followed by another pained yell. But pained for different reasons.

I don't know why, but as the mental image of Borden kicking a desk in a childish tantrum came to my mind, I laughed. It wasn't a sarcastic laugh, nor a sadistic one, but a genuine laugh. It was a sound that I thought I would never hear again; it was to bad that it had been the result of somebody else's pain.

I still couldn't see in front of me, so I turned and walked right, a happy compromise I thought quietly to myself. I didn't know where I was going, I didn't really care. I had too many unanswered questions in my mind that I had to ponder on. Maybe I would go and see the dreaded Lady Jane. But then I knew I didn't have that much courage unless Charles was there pushing me in to the room.

I really didn't know where I was going; my feet were just leading me. In and out through the sea of almost white military tents. It felt like some sort of a maze, for I couldn't see over the tops of the tents. But I could see the shadow of the manor in the not to far away distance. I must have been walking for an hour, just in and out of the same tents, my mind busy with the impossible questions trying to get an answer, but with no luck I might add. My brain had gone to sleep, officially.

It was then that I heard voices, rushed and frustrated as they talked in the privacy of their tent. It was then that I knew where I was. In the shadow of the manor, right at the edge of the camp, and the voices were coming from the biggest tent around.

One of the voices I recognised as Charles', who couldn't recognise that horribly thick accent. Then there was Wilkins' slimy drawl, followed by the icy tone of Tavington. Three officers in one tent? But the fourth voice was unexpected. It was one that I had never heard before. There was a woman in that tent as well. A fine, upper class British accent, tipped with a little Irish, if I wasn't mistaken.

I stood, glued to the spot. Curiosity always getting the better of me; reason burning at the back of my mind telling me to keep walking all the same.

"It is quite impossible, Miss." Charles spoke assertively; "there is simply not enough facilities for a woman of your stature".

This was interesting I thought to myself. I had only seen a few women in this base, one being Lady Jane, myself and the rest had been common whores! I wonder what this woman wanted?

"General O'Hara," the curious woman answered, her voice tinted with annoyance, "I have just travelled here, from England, having to cross the Atlantic and then have to go through Colonial territory to get here, just to have you tell me that I have to go back!"

She paused for a moment, but didn't let anyone speak for as soon as she stopped she continued talking again. I could just imagine Charles' face at being cut of,

"Just go and get Richard so that I can see him. You can decide after what to do with me."

So was she staying? Who was Richard? And from the hospitality that I had been provided with, she really shouldn't volunteer to have those men decide what was to be done with her. However, Charles spoke, with an exhausted tone,

"Very well. Wilkinson, go and fetch Major Borden."

At that moment about ten thousand clogs turned in my head, trying to come to one conclusion. Richard…wasn't that Borden's first name? Did that mean that that woman in there, the woman with the thick British accent, who was on first name terms with the major was here to see Borden?

My hands found there way to the side of my head and my mouth fell open, as from inside the tent there was the scraping sound of wooden chairs being moved. Followed by the sound of a man getting up and walking to the front of the tent. The tent flap, flapped open and Wilkinson stood at the front of the tent, about 3 feet away from me, eyes squinting to try and adjust to the light outside.

It didn't take him long to find me, as I was in his immediate line of vision. Why I was hoping he wouldn't see me I didn't know. His blue eyes locked on to mine as the same sadistic smirk pasted his features. He stood tall and straightened his uniform, no doubt trying to not be the sore thumb that he was. He took a deep breath in and said,

"Close your mouth Lucy…that's almost an invitation."

I heard him speak but I couldn't react to his words. They slowly registered in my brain and I slowly shut my moth, my eyes narrowing as I fixed the Captain with the evilest stare I could manage. If looks could kill, Wilkinson would be a bloody mess on the floor.

There was sound coming from inside the tent. I turned my head away from Wilkinson and faced the tent door, waiting for someone to walk through it. It was as I was looking in the other direction that Wilkinson saw his chance.

He stalked over to me, in a speed that could match a tiger, and grabbed me around the waist. I felt myself take a sharp breath in as surprise and realisation kicked in. He pressed his body to mine and leaned down. He buried his neck in the arch of my neck and began to what I could only describe as assault it!

I could feel myself almost retch at the thought of Wilkinson being this close to me dawned. I tried to push him off, but with no luck. He only gripped me tighter.

"Get off me!" I said to him. No response. "I said get off me, you sadistic pig!" This time as I went to push him off, his head came up to look at me.

That was my chance and I took it. I swung my right hand and it connected with the side of his face. That loosened his grip as he stumbled backwards slightly.

I didn't notice that by this point I had three people watching the scene. There at the tent doorway stood Charles with a pleased look in his eye, Tavington wearing the same look he always had and then I saw the third person. The woman with the British accent with a slight Irish tinge. She had startling red hair elegantly tied up into a bun, and bright blue eyes. She was gorgeous. That was the only way to describe her. I knew I was ogling again. I had to stop. Luckily Wilkinson proved to be the perfect distraction.

He had once again lunged at me. He grabbed both of my wrists and looked me straight in the eye. There was a fire burning within his eyes. He must have been loathing!

"Hit me again…I dare you!" He began, but was cut of by Charles.

"That is quite enough of that, Captain! You will unhand Miss Martin." That instruction was not open for discussion. I smirked at Wilkinson, and that only stoked the fire more.

"But General, it's…"

"That is insubordination! Are you refusing an order Captain?" Charles stated. I knew that flogging was punishment for failing to follow an order.

Wilkinson suddenly let go of my wrists and just glared at me. I knew how much he wanted to possibly hurt me. But I just glared at him right back. The woman just stood there looking discussed at the scene, which I was creating. I lost any respect that I had for that woman, by the look, which she was giving me.

Charles was the next one to speak up, the next to try and break the uncomfortable tension that was surrounding us.

"Tavington, will you please take Lucy up to the manor and wait with her until I come and get her. I'm sure Cornwallis would like a word with her…"

I didn't put up a fight when Tavington grabbed my arm and pulled me towards the manor. I didn't even look back over my shoulder to see them, but I could feel a dozen pairs of eyes burning into the back of head as I went.


	18. Offers

**A.N; I know this is really quick for me, it usually takes me months to update, but I couldn't stop myself. So here's the next chapter. Enjoy. Ron.**

**A.N. 2; And another thing, I want to know your opinions…who do you think Lucy should end up with? I want to know what you guy's think.**

Tavington waited patiently with me in the library, not even trying to engage in conversation. So we sat there in silence. I was too annoyed to be good company for anyone, I would probably just make matters worse.

I was not pleased. I was not pleased at all. Within the last two hours, I have been asked to be a target for the cadets shooting practice, gone to find John and ended up finding Borden, having Borden declare his feelings for me, followed by my first kiss. That was then shortly followed by the arrival of that woman…whom I still don't know who she is, although I have my suspicions, I had been assaulted, again, by Wilkinson and now, after being marched up to the manor by Tavington, am waiting to face Cornwallis.

I could still feel anger pulsating through my body, but that feeling was slowly being taking over by the dreaded sensation of what was to come when I met Cornwallis, or worse yet, Lady Jane! For she was bound to be there, anything to do with me, and she felt an obligation to be there. I don't know if she was trying to mother me or not. Maybe I should tell her, that I've managed quite well without a mother for 6 years!

My face was resting in my hands, and my eyes were to the floor, but I could feel Tavington's cold and penetrating gaze never leave me. That was why I kept my face to the floor. If I looked up I would have to look at him and I knew I didn't want to do that.

I was staring to count the lines in the wooden floorboards I was that bored! I was in a library, I could read a book whilst waiting for Charles to come and get me. I rose from my seat, a squashy leather winged armchair and began to move towards the nearest bookcase.

I could feel Tavington's eyes on me, watching every movement that I made. A shiver ran through my spine, but I shook my head and took a deep breath in. This feeling would pass soon enough I told myself, hoping that what I said would be true.

I didn't hear Tavington get up from his chair and stride over towards me. I should have for the heavy metal spurs he wore on his boots clanked on the wooden floor with every step. When he spoke, it made me practically jump out of my own skin,

"What are you doing?"

I spun round faster than I thought was possible, so that I was facing him. I had to take a step back, for I didn't expect to find him a matter of inches away from me. I thought he was still in the immaculately kept armchairs, so it was a surprise to find him where he was.

"I'm looking for a book, I'm in a library, it makes sense to read one while I'm waiting…" I couldn't resist saying that. Any excuse to try and devalue him, but he replied, with an equally savage attitude,

"I didn't know you could read…"

I didn't have time to answer that one, for at that very moment, a rather flustered looking Charles bursts in through the doors, staring from one of us to another.

He caught his breath as he stood there. He really looked tired and I could see his messed blond hair coming out from its tight military queue that was usually pulled back under his powered wig. It was then that he spoke,

"Thank you Tavington. You may return to your duties now…"

I looked back to Tavington, who had backed away from me after Charles entered the room. Tavington nodded in understanding, and with a quick dip of the head, he confidentially left the room, leaving me alone with Charles.

"Well, Cornwallis can see us now…" A forced smile emerged from his mouth as he, as a proper gentleman would, held out his arm for me to take. I smiled at this innocent gesture and once I had linked arms with him, we set of towards Cornwallis' office, which was now situated on the second floor.

At the top of the stairs, we turned left and continued down an elegant looking corridor. It was when Charles stopped me in front of a grand looking door, that I truly felt my heart race. I was that nervous, that if Charles hadn't have been there to support me, I would have ended up on the floor.

Charles knocked three times on the door and we waited. I looked at him impatiently and was about to knock myself, when Cornwallis' deep tones travelled through the hard oak door.

"Come…"

Charles gripped my arm a little more tightly than before, the same way he dose when I'm about to see Lady Jane. It was more of a confidence thing than anything else, and I was glad of it. I could feel myself start to shake as Charles turned the shining brass doorknob.

The door swung open to once again reveal the Lord General's lavishly furnished office. There was a large table to the one side of the room, just under the window and on there, I noticed sat a map of the south. There were many little coloured flags and things stuck into it, I guess that's to do with something military so I didn't spend too much time looking at it.

There, sitting at the other end of the room, behind a solid desk, sat Cornwallis. He, like Charles, looked tired and fed up. His red coat was tossed aside and his starched sleeves were rolled up past his elbows. And, perched on the end of his long nose, sat a pair of round spectacles. He looked up to us, and pulled the delicate lenses of his nose. He placed them gently down on the table before indicating for us to sit down, on the two chairs in front of his desk.

I don't think I had been more nervous before in my life. I was in trouble, that much I had worked out myself. But how much trouble I couldn't guess. My hands started to shake, and Charles, noticing this leaned forward and grasped my hands in hope to try and stop them. But Cornwallis at last spoke,

"Do you have any idea why I have sent for you, Miss Martin?"

Honestly, no. But it couldn't be good, I kept repeating to myself. I was getting myself into a state! But before I could stop myself, I blurted out,

"I'm sorry for hitting Captain Wilkinson…"

Cornwallis looked slightly puzzled at my sudden out burst and what I could only describe as an amused smirk came across his features.

"No, that's not why I called you here…" the smirk now turned into a genuine smile that inspired a little hope in me. I visibly relaxed as Cornwallis continued, "feel free to carry on hitting the Captain. From all account's I've heard, you have good reason too."

I couldn't believe this. Was I getting permission to hit Wilkinson from the Lord General? A smile similar to that of Cornwallis' crept to my face, but it soon vanished as curiosity, once again got the better of me.

"Then sir, if you don't mind me asking, have you called me here if not about Wilkinson?"

Cornwallis took a deep breath in, the smile staying on his face. He stared at me, not in a sick way, but the way a proud father looks at his daughter.

"I don't know if you know, but there is a party coming up…" the lord general began, but he was not allowed to finish hi sentence for Charles had decided to tell me the rest,

"And the lord general and I have decided that, since you have been here you have been treated rather unfairly, so we thought that it would be nice for you to come to this party, as a guest…"

This all seemed a little strange, and once again I couldn't contain myself,

"But I am your prisoner, am I not?"

This time it was Charles who answered,

"Technically yes, but we also feel it is our duty to try and make up for the horrible way you have been treated, after all not many people can walk out of one of Tavington's beatings still alive…"

"But I was barley alive, if you hadn't have come then I probably would have died. You owe me no more than that; you have already saved my life once."

Cornwallis, who had been silently watching the scene between Charles and myself, finally spoke up,

"It would make me very happy if you would come…"

How could anyone say no to an invitation like that? I wasn't even aware that I was speaking, until I had said it.

"Then, if that's the case I would be happy to come…"

Charles smiled more broadly and squeezed my hand, he still had hold of it and I had long since stopped shaking. I looked between the two officers before me and I saw that there was a genuine want to help in their eyes. Cornwallis once again spoke,

"And there will be no more of you sleeping in tents in the camp, wearing Charles spare breaches," I didn't like where this was going, "You will have a room here in the manor, and please allow us to pamper you."

There was no arguing with this man, who held so much power. It was true I was a prisoner, and for a prisoner to be offered such an invitation was overwhelming. I wasn't overly keen on having a room here, for I had grown fond of my little tent and Charles breeches. But I knew what the sensible thing to do was.

Cornwallis stood from his seat, which was an indication that we were being excused. Charles stood first and pulled me to my feet, still clutching my hand. As we walked to the front of the office, I looked around to see that Cornwallis had settled back down to the work on his desk.

We left the office, with Charles still beaming like Cheshire Cat. Once the door was closed, he turned to me and said,

"Right, lets find you a room…" and with that he set of back down the corridor with a skip in his step, he so reminded me of my younger brothers and sister sometimes. I had a funny feeling that this had been all of Charles' idea. But I didn't care, the only thought that occupied my head now, was the upcoming party…


	19. Choices

**A.N. I just couldn't help it…not that any of you will mind. Enjoy. Ron.**

**A.N. 2, I want to get a poll going to see who you want Lucy to end up with, cos we know she's gotta end up with someone.**

With the help of Charles, I found what was not to be known as my room. It was a little smaller than Charles room, but the décor was pretty much the same. There stood a heavy oak desk just under the windowsill and against the far corner was an old looking 4-poster bed, complete with curtains. It all looked very English.

"Well, it's suppose too…" replied Charles, when I told him about my thoughts. He looked at me as though I was crazy to think otherwise.

He was wound up real tight. He was practically jumping up and down on the spot. I didn't understand why. After patiently biting my for a good 20 minutes, I snapped,

"What's the matter Charles? You're behaving worse than my 7 year old brother."

It was strange, this was the first time that I hadn't burst in to fits of tears at the slightest thought of a member of my once family. I didn't ponder on this anymore, for I was still biting my tongue. I was sure that any minute now I would feel blood.

"Nothing," Charles replied, "I'm just excited…"

This was like drawing blood from a stone! I think a stone would be more helpful than Charles, it would probably be better company at the moment too. Charles was driving me mad!

When I was at home on the plantation, I had nerves of steel and my patients seemed endless, now the slightest little thing would annoy me and quite possibly send me over the edge!

"There's a tailor coming to fit you with a dress…"

"When?"

"What time is it now?" He quickly glanced down at his crotch watch and then turned to me again, "It's 11.30 now, and the tailor's coming at 3.00."

What? How could this be happening to me? I could feel myself hyperventilating. There had been just too much information flung at me and in such a short space of time. I felt that any more and my head would explode!

It took an age for Charles too finally leave. He was so bubbly and cheerful that it had the opposite effect on me! His happy spirits just seemed to depress me further. I had to physically push him out of the doorway, before locking the door just to stop him coming in again!

After having to promise to come and see him later, when the tailor had finished, and after having to shout through the door, he finally left me in peace. I was glad of a little time to gather my thoughts together and to try and make some sense out of them.

It was impossible! There was no way that anyone would ever be able to understand the inner most workings of my mind! It was a bit of a give-away, if I couldn't even understand them! There was no use so I settled to do a bit of reading. There was fortunately a small bookcase next to a large wardrobe, with no clothes in it. The books there were well mixed, there wasn't too much of one thing. I settled on a novel.

3.00 came and went. There was no sign of the tailor, so when the clock struck 4.00 I went to go and find Charles. He had told me where his room was, more than once actually. But I could still vaguely remember my way to it from when I first stayed in it.

When I was standing outside of the door that I was sure belonged to Charles, I gently knocked on the door. There was the sound of a chair being scuffed against the floor and then the heavy footsteps of boots on the wooden floorboards. When whoever it was got to the other side of the door, I could hear them taking a deep breath in, before they opened the door.

This was not like Charles, he would probably have had the door open before I even knocked. This slight change in character was disturbing. The thought that I had come to the wrong door was confirmed as the heavy oak door creaked open to reveal a flustered looking man, with hair that normally was pulled back in a queue, hanging lazily over his face. In the doorway, stood John.

He acknowledged me, only briefly before changing his posture and pulling some of the hair back out of his face. When he stood at his full height and pulled at his shirt so that it looked less creased than before, he really did look quite attractive. He smiled weakly at me, only the one side of his mouth moved, it was one of those lopsided smiles that would make any woman go weak at the knees. It took a while for me to stop starring and to come to my senses.

"Isn't this Charles' room?" John visibly slumped in disappointment at this, before adding,

"It used to be, Cornwallis apparently thought that it was about time that I had my own room up here at the manor, so he moved Charles up on to the next floor."

Again the clogs started turning inside my head. Both me and John had been shown kindness today. It was very unusual.

"Are you going to this party?"

"I haven't been invited." By the way he sounded, it was almost sadness that filled his voice.

I took that as my time to depart. If Charles was on the next floor, I would just have to go and find him there.

I found the stairs, eventually, that lead to the upper floors in the house. And as I reached the corridor, I saw the second door to my left open and Charles was inside, unpacking.

I knocked gently on his door and he looked up. The powdered wig was discarded on the desk to his right, and his blond hair shone with the sunlight. The room that he was in now was a little bigger than the ones downstairs. This must be where Cornwallis and Lady Jane live.

He smiled as he saw me and almost immediately his cheery exterior returned. He ushered me in to the room and shut the door. Now he looked as though a good friend hungry for gossip, and this reminded me of my good friend Ann. Once again, there were no tears.

"Have you seen the tailor? He didn't show up." I began, but Charles broke in…

"Yes, Lady Cornwallis decided that she needed a new dress for the party after all. Don't worry, he'll come to you next."

I nodded showing that I understood, as Charles returned to unpacking. But there was a question that kept nagging at the back of my mind. I crossed the room and sat at the chair by the desk. Charles didn't look up form what he was doing so I just blurted out what had been bothering me…

"Charles? Are we suppose to go with anyone to this party?" I felt rather shy all of a sudden.

"Yes, you should do…why who have you got in mind?"

I couldn't tell him that I only wanted to go with someone to make Borden jealous! If that red head was who I thought she was, then I needed to go with someone.

"Well, no one imparticular…It's just that John hasn't been invited and it looks as though Borden's got a partner…"

"Yes," he once again looked tired, "indeed he has."

He turned to look at me, not just look at me, but stare right in to my very eyes. This unnerved me, for I wasn't expecting this. But once again he spoke…

"Look Lucy, you know I'd love to take you, but you know my wife is coming down from Washington for this party."

That was a shock to the system. Charles is married? I never knew. This could make things a little difficult. But I had to ask,

"Washington?"

Charles had a pained look on his face, "Yes, she lives there. Emily, she's American you know. I met her before the war started."

A clouded look replaced the pained one and he continued. "That now however leaves us with two possible options to take you."

I looked at him curiously.

"Tavington or Wilkinson it seems…"


	20. John's confession

Chapter 20 

**A/N: I know it's been a lifetime since I updated last, but now college has finished for the year, so I have lots of lovely spare time to write  And on a sadder note, please just spare a thought to those involved in the recent bombings in London (7/7), it has effected us all in some way or another. Thank you. Ron.**

As I looked into the mirror, which was perched against the one wall of my newly acquired room, I couldn't help but wonder whether I had made the right decision. "What have you done?" I asked myself, almost as though I was expecting an answer. When none came, I was happy to continue my discussion by myself.

It was Saturday evening, the night of the dreaded party. The party which I had been worrying about for the last week or more. I had to have Charles, almost daily telling me about what a treat this would be, and that I had to go, for I had given my word to the Lord General saying that I would. I was told that I should do my up-most hardest to try and stay on his good side, for he could apparently make life very difficult for me. I however was convinced that many others apart from the Lord General could do that without even having to try very hard at all.

So here I stood. In my room, staring at myself in the opposite mirror. I looked like a peacock. I was sure, and nobody, not even Charles could tell me otherwise. My gown was pale blue. Lady Jane helped me pick out the colour. I say that she helped me, I of course mean that I had no input what so ever in the colour of my dress, and that she even decided the colour ribbon I was to wear in my hair! There was no other word to describe her, but interfering!

I suddenly felt self-conscious. I had never been to any fancy parties like this before, and so I honestly didn't know what to expect. I was dressed in the finest, tailor made dress that I had ever seen, and my hair had been done earlier by one of the many maids, which attended the manor. And now I was only waiting for Charles to come and chaperone me, until I was picked up by my escort for the evening.

My mind started to race. And at that moment I had a million different thoughts fleeing through my mind. Although the pressing question within my mind was that Borden would be there. I would be seeing him, with that red haired woman within the next few minutes and I had no idea as to how I was going to react to it. I hadn't seen either of them for a good week or more.

However I was knocked from that brain length, by the sudden harsh knock on my door. I stumbled over my long dress as I tried to make it towards the door, to admit my caller. As I opened the door, convinced it was Charles coming to get me, the bold outline of my former fiancée stood menacingly against the doorframe. I could not properly see his face, so I could not see the expression he wore.

"John?" I questioned…I didn't know why all of a sudden I found him frightening! He stood there, almost trying to intimidate me. However, in this dress, it wasn't going to work! I seemed to have been given a new found confidence boost, and so I stepped forwards, only by half a step, in the hope that he would move out of the doorway, so that I could most abruptly slam the door in his face. Indicating that the conversation was over, along the way.

However as I took that half step, John did not stand back. He towered there, unmoveable by any feeble and I have to say childish attempts on my part to try and move him. I did however catch an odd smell in the air. This smell I remembered only to well. This was the smell that encased my father, for a long time after my mother died. There was the strong smell of alcohol around John.

"John? Are you drunk?" I didn't even wait for an answer before I continued, "I'm sorry, but I'm in a rush at the moment. I have to meet O'Hara and his wife before the party…"

I made to close the door and to take refuge inside my room. But before the door closed fully, a boot had blocked the door and a hand had slammed onto the other side of it. John was forcing his way in.

I didn't try and fight it. I knew he was stronger than I was and that to try and prevent him would mean another humiliation for me. I stepped back, further into my room, so that there was at least 5 paces between myself and john, who had now got through the thresh hold and was locking the door behind himself.

"W-why are you locking the door John? As I said before I am in kind of a hurry…" I didn't get to continue, for the look which was pasted onto John's face as he turned around to face me, silenced me in an instant. I could feel my breath catching in my throat, and my heart beat racing inside my chest. I was truly afraid. I was truly afraid of John.

The only thing that I could think of, was to keep talking, babble on about anything, this silence was unbearable. "J-J-John?"

"Be quiet, Lucy!" John snapped harshly. This was a first. John had never told me to shut up before. He was always quite happy for me to babble on…but this, this was something strange. However, he continued. The message had got through.

"For the past three years I have been silent. Tonight I shall have my say!" What was he talking about? What did he mean?

John crossed over the room so that he was under the window. He then pulled out my chair, from under my writing desk and sat down. My eyes never left him. I was curious, but I also didn't want to know what he was on about. John, however, had never looked more serious in his life. I had never seen him look like this. I had also never seen him drunk, something had made this man fall off the edge.

"Don't you want to sit down?" He asked, a little of the old John shining through.

"No…" I answered, if I sat down that would look as though I wanted a conversation, which I didn't. I continued with my excuse, the only one that I could think of, "I-I-I don't want to crease the dress."

"You look very nice tonight, I only wish I could be there…" The glazed look which passed over Johns face, quickly disappeared, and was replaced with the former look of seriousness. I couldn't tell whether he was angry or just tired. Again he continued.

"You know, they said they'd kill me if I came to you and tell you what I'm about too."

"Then maybe you shouldn't…" I began.

"Lucy! Please, I have made up my own mind." OK, now this was quite scary, 'they' must have meant the British. So what did John know that could cost him his life?

"Lucy, I want you to be safe, that's all…" This looked as though it was costing him dearly to say. "Don't do anything stupid tonight. Just remember, they're going to have guards every where…"

"John, I don't understand…"

"Your father, Lucy! They're using you as bait. That's the only reason you're still alive! They expect him to turn up tonight and try and rescue you. And when he dose, they'll shoot him. They'll make you watch, and then they'll shoot you too! I wouldn't be surprised if Tavington dose the job himself…that's why he's taking you. Either Tavington or Wilkins? That's what O'Hara said, isn't it? Cornwallis knew that neither O'Hara nor Borden could kill you…"

"O'Hara's wife is coming down from Washington for tonight! And Borden's fiancé's turned up!" I shouted, I couldn't take all of this in! It must have been true! But for some reason I felt the urge to defend both O'Hara and Borden. John answered me, with venom in his voice,

"O'Hara's not married, he never has been, and I don't know about Borden. Don't you see Lucy? It's all a plot, a scam. They don't care about you! They never have! I'm the only one who doses. That's why I'm risking my neck trying to warn you. That's why I refused to have any part in this! They wanted me to kill you! But I couldn't. I couldn't because I-I still love you, even though you have never cared for me!"

By this time John's voice was shaking, and there seemed to be what looked like tears in his eyes. I couldn't look away from him. Was this true? I felt numb. Cold inside! But right at that moment there was another knock on my door.

I turned around, having to prize my eyes away from the broken man who sat before me. I walked over and opened the door. Standing in the hallway was Charles, looking as pleasant as could be.

"Lucy…" he said in a joyful voice, "are you ready to go?"

"Yes…" I said, putting on my best smile. "Where's your wife? I thought we were all going together?"

"Sudden head ache. She'll be down when she feels better." By this point he offered me his arm, "Shall we?" He asked, as I linked my arm with his. And together we walked down the hall, him pulling me along, a little more than was necessary.


	21. The Ball!

A/N: Please Review! I need them to make me feel loved! Enjoy the chapter, it was fun to write.

A/N 2: A final thought…if anyone has done/or would like to do, some fan art, it would be very much appreciated. It would be interesting how you guys have portrayed some of the characters in my fan fiction. Send them to me. Ron.

What could I do? I had no idea…the false smile that was pasted to my face drooped a little as I thought. John's words kept running through my mind, "They'll shoot him, and they'll make you watch. And then they'll shoot you!" How could I prepare myself for something like that?

Charles and I had descended onto the first floor and I could distinctively make out the voice of the Lord General and Tavington, on the subject of a horse blanket. Then the thought occurred to me…did Cornwallis really order all of this? Did he really believe that my father would turn up tonight? Did he really underestimate my father that much? My father would come for me…but he wouldn't be so stupid as to do it tonight. But however much I told myself that, there was a shadow of doubt cast over me.

The other prying question was; was Charles really married? Did John tell me the truth? No matter how much John had preached to me, my instinct told me not to trust him. And why was he really here? He had never said that he was a captive, a prisoner as I was…maybe John was a big a traitor as that pathetic excuse for a man; Wilkinson.

As Charles and I walked the remaining few steps, along the hallway and to the staircase, I muttered, trying desperately to sort through my thoughts, "When did your wife get here, Charles?" Again there was that shaking feeling in my voice, as though I wasn't sure of something. As Charles turned to face me, he must not have caught confusion in my voice, but suspicion.

"She arrived late Thursday night…" he began, an eyebrow raising slightly as though he was unsure of my question. Charles was not the only one confused tonight, or at least that was how it seemed. I however broke in:

"Only, I haven't seen her at all. And I thought I would have if she had been here since Thursday night."

Before Charles could reply there was the sound of a door suddenly slamming. It had come from not far away. I turned to look, releasing my arm from Charles' as I did. It was then that I heard it…cold iron spurs clanking on the wooden floorboards from barely 20 paces behind me. I knew who it was, before he even turned the corner and came into view, for the argument that was commencing had stopped as suddenly as it began.

I found myself, once again looking into the icy blue eyes of Colonel William Tavington. There was not annoyance in his eyes, or anger. In fact, if it were possible coming from a man who was nicknamed the "butcher"; he looked amused. He stopped as he saw us. And what a sight Charles and I must have made. I was nursing a most confused expression, while Charles' was looking heavily suspicious.

Tavington looked between us, his smirk never faltering; before he said in his smooth British voice:

"My dear Miss Martin" there was a little bow at this point, "please allow me to escort you the rest of the way."

Before I knew what was happening, before I had even registered what he had said, Tavington had strolled up to me, and was holding out his arm for me to take.

How could I react? I reacted the only way a refined young lady should react. I didn't kick his shins or attempt to slap him; I linked my arm with his, and allowed him to steer me towards the stairs. With a look back to Charles, I said, "Don't worry, I'm sure your wife will be feeling better before the party is over." This time it was my turn to smirk.

That doubles crossing bastard, if he thought he could pull the world over my eyes, he had another thing coming! I would make sure to make this evening as painful as I could for him! At least Tavington and Wilkinson had been honest about their feelings; they made it clear that they wished me dead from the first moment I met them. At this moment, I felt safer with the "Butcher" than I did with my once good friend Charles. At least Tavington wouldn't stab me in the back; he'd have the courtesy to tell me what he was going to do, before he even did it!

Again the fake smile was pasted on, as we rounded the last corner of the hallway, and found ourselves at the top of the staircase. Below us were quite easily 500 people all crammed into the entrance of the manor. And that was not all…the crowd seemed to be spilling outside, for that was where the music seemed to be coming from.

I took another deep breath and, without even realising what I was doing I had tightened my grip onto the "Butchers" arm. His hand patted the top of mine, and together we began the long path down into the thick of the party.

There were colours everywhere! Lady's in a multitude of different coloured dresses and the gentleman in different regimental uniforms. As soon as our feet had stepped of the bottom step, we were surrounded by people all trying desperately greet Tavington; and myself seems as I was with him.

After a mixture of "Good evening" and "How do you do?" from Tavington, he then brushed of all of his other adoring fans with other simple hand gestures and continued to push his way through the forever-thickening crowd. Pulling me through behind him as he went.

The warm air hit me. I was surprised. I wasn't expecting the air to be warm, due to my icy exterior. Tavington seemed to know exactly where he was going, as he pulled me through the crowds. It was then that I caught the first glimpse of the vibrant red hair of the woman that I had dreaded seeing ever since our first meeting.

Again, by the time I had registered exactly who it was, I was standing opposite the woman in question, with a blank look on my face. I glanced over to the man on her left and saw Borden looking at me. He looked uneasy. Tavington again looked smug. Before he began:

"Borden, I don't believe Miss Martin has been introduced to this young lady here…" with another gentle hand gesture, indicating who it was I was supposed to be being introduced to.

"Lucy…" he began, pulling at his collar, as though it had suddenly got too tight for him; "t-this is Miss L-Lucy O'Shea, m-my f-fiancée."

I couldn't believe it! I stood there; my mouth fell open, suddenly resembling that of a surprised fish. I looked over to Tavington, who was smirking again. I wanted to hit him! He had done this deliberately!

However, I couldn't help it. My mouth had just, once again run away with me: "Lucy?" I cast a disgusted look over to Borden, who visibly cringed under it: "How sick is that?"

Borden tried to step forward, possibly trying to console me, and said, "Lucy…please…"

"No! How could you? Did you mean anything you said to me? Or have you got some sick fetish, targeting people with the name Lucy?"

Borden continued: "Lucy, it wasn't like that…"

"No!" I began, then turning towards the fiancée, who had been surprisingly quiet up until now spoke: "Do you know what he said to me? Do you know he declared his undying affection for me. He never even mentioned you!" I turned to Borden once again and shouted, "I hope you're happy. I hope you're happy, you lying Bastard!"

And with that, my hand automatically raised, swung back and collided with Borden's face. Borden suddenly disappeared from my line of vision, as he ended up in a crumpled heap on the floor. Lucy (the other one) made a dive for Borden.

I turned on my heel and sprinted, as best as I could with Tavington still holding onto my arm. I pushed my way through the crowd, with the "Butcher" following in my hurried wake.


	22. Two sides to every Colonel

**A/N: To all of my readers, thank you for reading, and keep reviewing. Enjoy this chapter. Ron.**

All I could hear was Tavington's sneering chuckle from somewhere behind me. My blood was boiling! How could Borden have said all of that to me and still have a fiancée? And what was worst of all: her name was Lucy! Once again there were thousands of thoughts running through my head.

I quickened my pace, in a hope that Tavington would release his grip on my arm. But he only matched it, tightening his hold on my arm, the quicker we went. I had no idea where I was going!

I slowed down, only slightly, to try and see where I had leaded us. I was still in the thick of the crowd; I couldn't see where it ended! It seemed to go on as far as I could see. It was here that Tavington took his chance. He pulled back on my arm, so I had no choice to turn around and face him, a little closer than what I would have liked. His eyes, no matter how smug he seemed to look; his eyes were cold. He looked down at me, and said:

"Now, now Lucy. Stop…" this was all he had the chance to say, before I jumped in:

"Why did you do it? What did you hope to achieve out of it?" My breathing was still rattling as I said this. My eyes never left his as I said it. His posture relaxed at little and the harshness on his face softened. His hands found their way on to each of my shoulders, the way a person dose when they're about to shake the other.

His reply was not one that I had counted on. "Lucy, it was better to get it over with now. Otherwise you would have been worrying about accidentally bumping into them all night, and then you wouldn't have enjoyed yourself…"

"How could I enjoy myself with you as a partner?" That was said with enough venom to kill a small elephant. Tavington however, saw it as a jest. He smiled again. This was un-natural! He had smiled the total of three times tonight! Something was defiantly wrong.

Tavington took a long breath in and said: "Well believe it or not, but I actually wanted to be your partner tonight. And I was very happy when O'Hara said that you had accepted my offer."

What the hell was going on? This was not right! I had to see how far I could push this man:

"Yes," I replied, "you wanted to be my partner so much, that you beat me to an inch close to death the first night I was here. Oh, and then you left me there, in the disgusting hole to rot, for all you cared!"

His face again was unmoved! His smile was still as evident as ever. This only caused to stoke the fire within me more!

"All in the past…" he casually waved off my comment with an airy posture. He looked around the crowd. It was easy for him; he was taller than most so he could see well over them. His eyes locked onto something that I could not see, due to the many bodies of eager guests surrounding me.

He removed his hands from my shoulders and stepped back by half a step. He offered me his arm once more and said:

"Now, will you care to dance?" And then it hit me! I had never been confident dancing. I had only done it once or twice and they were embarrassing enough. It was Charlotte who had taught me the little that I knew, and that wasn't much at all. However, I was not going to let this man get one over me! Even though I was not confident, I would swallow my pride and dance with him.

I took his awaiting arm and we proceeded to make our way over to, where I could only presume was where people were dancing. Tavington lead me through the crowd, with ease. He never stopped to talk, but would throw short replies to those who spoke to him.

As we approached the dancing, there was a gentle tap on my shoulder. I pulled on my arm, so that Tavington would stop. Then turned round to see a nervous looking Charles standing beside me. He looked troubled. Behind him was Cornwallis himself, entertaining a few select women with a story about two dogs. Charles must have been with him when he saw us pass.

"Lucy, I must speak with you…" He began nervously. He, however was interrupted by Tavington who, had never let go of my arm that only moments ago I had offered so freely:

"Sorry, General. But this beautiful young lady has just consented to dance with me and I am an impatient man. I can not wait for another minute. I must deprive you of her company for a few moments more." Tavington smiled down at Charles. Then Charles spoke:

"T-then you would grace me with the next dance Lucy…" it was my turn to speak:

"I'm sorry Charles, but I think it would be inappropriate for me to dance with you due to the fact that that your wife is upstairs in the manor, and probably watching us all from up there." With a smile on my part, I turned back towards Tavington, who in himself was gleaming. "Shall we?" I asked him.

"Of course, my lady." And with that, we again started towards the dance floor. As we approached the floor, all that I could see was a mix of swirling colours, all cascading together like a raging river. I took a deep breath as Tavington lead me into the middle of it.

He turned around so that he was facing me, and as you do when dancing, placed one hand around my waste and another slid into my hand. I had to keep telling myself that this was how you danced, and that there was nothing meant by his most obvious advances.

As the music began a new chorus, we began. A gentle waltz around the floor. I was nervous. There was no denying it. If Tavington hadn't have been holding me, I was sure my knees would have collapsed from beneath me. I must have been visibly shaking.

I tore my eyes away from his; for fear of what I may find buried deep within them, if I kept looking. His eyes spoke of many things: amusement and enjoyment. But deeper were feelings of cunning, plotting, betrayal and worst of all lust. Whether that was lust for me, or lust for my spilt blood, I couldn't decide.

I glanced up to the manor, and there in one of the top most windows, was a woman. Eagle eyed curiously surveying the scene below her. For only the briefest second, our eyes locked. I quickly pulled our eyes apart, embarrassed to be caught looking at her.

I could feel Tavington's eyes baring down on me, burning at where they looked. I was confused. Who was that woman? Was it Charles' wife? Was she really ill in bed? Was all that John told me all a lie?

Before I knew what I was doing, my one hand that was placed on top of Tavington's shoulder shot down and pulled out his gun from the holster at his waist. I pressed the mussel into his chest, and was grateful that nobody else had seen this action.

Tavington did not stop dancing; he carried on as though nothing had changed. He didn't make any attempt to remove the gun from my hand. His eyes still looking into mine. My breathing had quickened, and I was unsure of what to do.

"What are you doing Lucy?" he asked this without any hint of anger or frustration. "You couldn't kill me…if you really wanted to, you would have done it by now…"

"Oh, but you forget Tavington…I've shot at you before, this time I won't miss." There was confusion in my voice and Tavington picked up on it. He however replied with a comment that was only meant to confuse me more:

"Please, I'll have no more of this "Tavington" nonsense. I'll be honoured if you would call me William." As the tune ended and another started, Tavington and I kept dancing. I could only say that Tavington's plan had worked. I was more confused now, than I had ever been.

When I didn't answer, Tavington continued, again with amusement in his voice:

"All right, Lucy. What is it you want?" He looked down at me again, almost as though trying to read what I was thinking: "Do you want to go back to your family? Do you want me to take you back? Do you want me to-to release you? Or do you want me to arrange that Borden's fiancée meets a sticky end on her way home, so that you and Borden can be together?"

"No," I began, once again meeting his eyes. "I want answers…"

"To what, fair Lucy?" He asked.

"Charles…is he really married?" I almost didn't want to know. If he said yes that meant that John was lying, but if he said no, that meant that John was right, and that the only reason that I am still alive is to bait my father to come here.

"Yes, Lucy. He is married…Emily, I think her name is," he paused only for the smallest of moments before he continued, "right, next question."

"Why are you being so nice to me? Why are you answering all of these questions?"

"Because, dear Lucy, you have a gun pointed directly at most of my vital organs. And about me being nice, there is more to me that the "Butcher"."

I glanced around, away from his eyes. I knew that this time he was telling the truth. And it didn't seem to cost him that much. As I scanned the crowd, I caught sight of none other than Captain Wilkinson. He was looking directly at me. His eyes wandered a little and he caught sight of the gun I was pressing into Tavington's chest. He panicked. I saw it in his eyes. He didn't shout or cause any scene that would draw attention towards me. He did however start thundering towards me and Tavington.

I knew that I didn't have much time, now that I had been spotted. Wilkinson was, by no doubt on a mission to save his commanding officer from a life threatening situation. I turned back to Tavington, with only one more question left to ask:

"What about John? Why is he here?" I however didn't get to here his answer, for an explosion sounded from behind me. I was expecting to see Wilkinson with a gun pointed at me. But instead I saw, the ship in the harbour being ripped apart by the explosion, which was planted inside of it.

Tavington took this as his chance. I knew that he couldn't have taken this as well as I had thought. With his one hand he grabbed the gun and with the other grabbed me. I don't exactly know how it happened, but the next thing I knew was that I had my back to Tavington. A muzzle of a gun, being pressed into my back.


	23. Wilkinson's revenge

A/N: Hi! When I last updated, it was about half an hour before London suffered another bomb scare for the second time this month. Please spare a thought for those involved. Please continue to send me reviews! Ron.

"Now," sneered Tavington in my ear. The gun was pressed into my upper back, and I was sure that his finger was against the trigger, ready to shoot me if I made a wrong move. "Try that again and I wont be this lenient!"

"No, if you were going to shoot me, you would have done it already, Will..." I put particular emphasis on his name. I felt him tense up behind me at the use of his name. And the gun pressed further into me. But before he could answer me, there was the drawl of Wilkinson from somewhere behind me.

"Sir? Are you alright?" He sounded shaken. Did that explosion un-nerve him? I knew it had un-nerved me, but I had a more pressing situation to deal with. I didn't move, either that or I couldn't move. From somewhere to my left I heard the voice of a woman declaring how happy she was due the lovely firework display put on, curtsey of the British army.

Tavington's one hand was on the gun; the other was coming over my shoulder and resting across, just below my neck, keeping me there. I was sure that somebody would have seen me, it couldn't have looked natural the position I was in. But all eyes seemed to be on the ship in the harbour, now in pieces.

Tavington didn't say anything, so as you do in these kinds of situations; you make them worse for yourself by talking. I didn't try to face Wilkinson, although I knew that he was there, standing somewhere behind me.

"Oh, Wilkins, how nice to see you. I'm surprised they let you come to this ball; I didn't think they would have let vermin in! But then again they let dear William here in as well. Standards have gone write down!"

If it were at all possible, I was sure that the gun that Tavington was holding was pressed even harder into my back. Wilkinson's foot steps sounded harder than ever before as he appeared in front of me. There was about four paces between us, and that was too little in my opinion.

"Why you little whore! How dare you talk to us like that!" He seemed to visibly puff out; filling up as much space as possible in the hope of intimidating me. I didn't get to reply for Tavington began to talk in, again such a cool and calm voice.

"Wilkinson," he was giving him an order, "take Miss Martin to her tent. She will not be staying at the manor tonight." And with that, Tavington pushed me out from him. I was not expecting this at all. And with the force that Tavington pushed me with, I went straight into Captain Wilkinson's outstretched arms.

I tried to push myself back, out of his grip, but his arms had already engulfed me. I had lost my footing along the way, and embarrassingly had to hold on to him, to regain my footing. My arms were in front of me, so I couldn't slap the bastard. I then heard Tavington's final part of the order:

"Oh, and Captain," Wilkinson looked from me and back to Tavington.

"Sir?" he replied.

"Make sure she stays there…we don't want her wandering about, now do we?"

"No sir," and with another look at me continued, "we don't." And with that, Wilkinson released me, only a little and kept his one hand tightly around me.

God he was tall. Taller than Tavington and Borden. I could feel the one side of my body going numb; he was holding onto me that tightly. We started moving. Well I say we, he was moving and I didn't have much choice but to follow. He navigated his way through the crowd with as much ease as Tavington.

It seemed a distant nightmare the events of earlier. John confessing that the British were only using me to bait the colonials. Meeting Borden's fiancée'; Lucy O'Shea. Me slapping Borden himself. And then the confession that Tavington had actually wanted me to partner him for this ball. And what a ball it had turned out to be! This one I will definitely remember. I was pushed from my chain of thought by Wilkinson. We were still moving smoothly through the, what seemed, the never-ending crowd.

"Will you ever learn?" If he was expecting me to answer him, he was in for a surprise. I had no intention, what so ever, to talk to him. I would not feel obliged to make polite conversation with such a man. He however sensing my silence, continued:

"You'll always be the silly little girl, who cheeked me, when you were no older than ten years of age." He paused a minute, and took a beep breath in. this was most unpleasant, for I could feel his every move with an unwanted intimacy.

"Even at that age, I knew you were going to be a looker." I felt repulsed by this man before he said that, I only felt even more disgusted when he continued: "Do you know, I was most disappointed when I heard of your engagement to John Porter."

"What should it matter?" I said. "I wouldn't have married you even if you had asked!" Again the venom in my voice was most evident. His reply only caused to disgust me further:

"Oh Lucy. I'm not one for marrying! I just get what I want and leave it." At this point I began to panic. I tried to pull free from his tightening grasp as I said:

"Let go of me!" I pulled against him, trying to free myself, but it was pointless. It wasn't going to work. He was far stronger than me, and could easily overpower me. But I wasn't going to go down without a fight.

I pulled again. And again, but his grip was unmoving. We passed through the gates of the manor, and I could see, once again the familiar sight of the sea of white military tents all huddled together within the few open fields. We had never stopped walking once, but as we approached the beginning of the tents I didn't want to go on any further. I didn't want to stop ever as much as I did now.

My breath was rapidly coming out in short quick breaks, and I had started to hear a quick moving pulse within my ear. There were still lots of noise coming from the manor gardens; the party must still be going on, all oblivious as to what was happening to me.

"Let go of me!" I shouted again. Only hoping that he may let me go.

"Now, why would I want to do that?"

All of a sudden there was the sound of someone running. I looked up and saw the shape of a man, running through the tents towards us. He continued running as Wilkinson finally stopped walking, if only for a brief moment. As the man came out from the cover of the tents, Wilkinson asked him:

"Private! What's the matter? What's happened?" Private? That meant that he was one of the new requites! The boy, who was no more than 20 years old, replied, after trying to catch his breath:

"Sir…there was a colonial on the edge of the camp. He's gone now, but he was here!"

"How long ago was this?"

"It happened just now, he fled; we went to check the woods, and there was nobody there…"

"Well, go and tell the Colonel!" And with that the recruit continued running, and Wilkinson and I continued walking.

There was a colonial here in this camp? Who could it have been? Could it have been my father just like John had said? Had he really come to rescue me? Was he really that stupid to do it the night that the British suspected it?

I was too deep in thought to acknowledge the fact that Wilkinson had now lead me to the outside of my old tent. He bent down to lifts the tent flap open. And before I knew it, he had pushed me head first into my tent, where I knew that I would not come out the same person as I entered it.


	24. Lucy the other one

A/N: Please, please, please review! It makes me feel loved! And if anyone has any ideas of where to take the story I would be more than grateful, I never plan what I'm going to write. It's just what comes to me when I'm sat at my computer. Ron. 

I had put up a good fight. Even Wilkinson had said so. It took him a good 20 minutes before he finally overpowered me; tired and scared and alone. I had been alone ever since I had arrived here, but now, it felt ten times as bad. Wilkinson hadn't stayed the night. He had been true to his word. He had got what he had wanted and had left.

It was now nearly daybreak. I could see the sunlight starting to break up the black sheet of night, which surrounded me. I was sat, curled up on the floor in my tent, leaning against my bed. My tent, which was once a safe haven, my refuge had now been, turned into something equally as horrific as that little room where Tavington had taken me the first night I had come here. That little room beneath the ground.

My undergarments were torn, and I was covered in my own blood, virgin blood. I was broken. I was broken and alone in the world. My family would hardly welcome me back. I had lost my honour and the honour of my family. No I had had it forcefully taken, having lost it would have meant that I had willingly have given it. Wilkinson was a pig. He had treated me worse than you would have treated a dog.

How could a person do that to another? I didn't understand it. I had been churning it over in my mind for most of the night, having not slept. I hadn't even closed my eyes, for every time I had, images of Wilkinson came flooding back to me. Of what he had done. Of the sadistic look he had in his eyes.

The early morning sunlight began to penetrate the sides of my tent; and I could hear the sound of people stirring from their sleep; all oblivious to the events of the previous night.

It was then that I started to cry. Warm salty tears that spilled from my eyes, making my skin raw in the process. My knees came to my chest and I wrapped my arms protectively around them. My hair, which was pretty last night for the ball, was lazily hanging around my shoulders. And the dress that I had been given; it being tailor made for me, was strewn at the bottom end of my bed. Discarded, just like I had been.

The noises from the camp became louder, as the sun now had totally wiped away the darkness. People were beginning to start the next new day, where I was still living yesterday. I was crying harder than ever as a familiar voice sounded from somewhere outside:

"Have any of you seen Miss Martin?" Borden was somewhere outside, asking some of the other recruits. There was an echo of "no sir" and other such comments from the recruits outside. Borden however continued:

"She isn't up at the manor, and by all accounts she hasn't been up there since yesterday." Come on, I willed. Use your head and come and look in my tent! But did I really want to see Borden? After all, what I had done to him last night was not something that warranted a friendly visit the next morning. However as I was thinking that, another prominent voice sounded.

"Borden?" It was Wilkinson.

"Captain…have you seen Miss Martin this morning?" Borden asked.

"I personally escorted her to her tent last night, and all she talked about was getting a well deserved sleep. I expect she's still asleep now. I wouldn't wake her just yet."

I couldn't believe it! Wilkinson was trying to warn of Borden! Trying to cover his own tracks! It was when Borden said something along the lines of, "oh, all right. I'll come down later to check on her…" that I realised that no matter how much I didn't want to see Borden, he was the only one who could help me and catch Wilkinson.

Try as I may to call him, to scream at him; I couldn't. This only caused to make me cry harder. Why! This wasn't fair!

The next thing I knew, there was the sound of my tent flap rustling. And the next, the sounds of a person visibly stiffen, and then the sound of a sharp intake of breath. I couldn't bring myself to look up, embarrassed in myself. Footsteps started towards me.

I pushed against the floor with my naked feet, and scurried further away from the person who was in my tent. I was cowering in the corner, the way a frightened mouse doses when there is no way out for it. My breathing once again quickened; one of the only ways I found to deal with the immense pain which now engulfed my whole body.

Every movement was pure agony. But the thought of another man even coming anywhere near me was enough to give me the will to move as far away from them as I possibly could. Again the man tried to come closer to me, and again I moved back. I had moved so that my back was pressing up against the tent wall. It was then that the man stepped back and spoke in the kind familiar voice, which I was so used, to hearing:

"My God Lucy, what happened to you?" Again he tried to step forward and touch me, in a comforting manner. I had no where else to go, I was already backed against the tent wall.

"Get away from me! Don't touch me!" My hands came from the floor to rest on my shoulders. And my body twisted slightly and I must have looked like a crazy person, escaped form the asylum.

"Lucy…" he started once more, "Let me help you let me fetch the doctor!"

"Leave me alone!"

I still couldn't look at him. I was too ashamed. Ashamed of the way that he had found me, the way that I had spoken to him, but most of all, I was ashamed of myself. Borden backed away from me, turned and ran out of the tent door. I could still hear his footsteps as tears flooded over me again.

It was all too soon that I heard rushed voices as well as thundering footsteps approaching my tent. Borden once again entered my tent, only this time he was followed by two people. One was my old friend and old fiancé, John, and the other was a person who I didn't expect to find willing to help me. Lucy O'Shea was standing in my tent, looking down on the bloody scene, which lay before her.

John went to step forward towards me, but when I squirmed, Lucy (the other one) spoke:

"Oh, for goodness sake! Both of you get out! Can't you see that she doesn't want you to be here!" And with that, she shooed the two men out of the tent and walked towards me. I didn't squirm when she approached, but I couldn't look her in the eye either. She squatted down beside me and said:

"Lucy, isn't it. I don't believe we've been formally introduced. We didn't get that far." I stifled a little laugh at this. "Now, lets see you face…"

Her hand found it's way to under my chin and it pulled gently towards her. I didn't pull against her when she done this, and when our eyes met I saw a kind person standing before me, who would do anything for anyone. It was at that moment that I knew that she was a perfect for Borden. They complimented each other perfectly.

"Now, we have to get you to the doctor. I can guess what has happened to you, and nobody should be alone. You have a friend in me, you know."

Again tears came to my eyes. This woman had just accepted me, despite what I had done to Borden last night. Her fingers wiped the tears from my face, and she smiled. She said:

"Now I'm going to call in Richard. He can carry you to the medical tent where Mr Porter can examine you. All right?"

I nodded my head slightly, gulping back the tears. Lucy (the other one) disappeared for the briefest moment, and returned with a worried looking Borden. He followed after Lucy (the other one) and crouched down next to me. He gently scooped me into his comforting arms and together we began towards the edge the tent.

Lucy (the other one) following behind, scurried around Borden and opened the tent door. Outside waiting was John, biting his nails. He looked at me and tried to smile but really he looked disgusted. I was right. I was broken, not even John would want me any more.

As Borden continued to carry me in the general direction of the medical tent, I looked behind and saw Lucy (the other one) and John, heads together conversing quietly. Lucy, no doubt, telling John what had happened to me.


	25. Emily's arival

**A/N: OK, not one of you guy's reviewed my last two chapters, even though nearly 20 of you read each. Please, please, please review! Ron.**

Borden lay me gently onto one of the cots inside the medical tent. The tent was bare; there was not one single patient in there apart from me. Not one solider with a supposed cold or something similar, with the hope of missing drills practice. The sun shone brightly through the tent walls, making the bloodstains in the canvas more evident.

The tears that soaked my face were staring to ease up now. However, as I was placed on the cot, no matter how gently; still a gasp of sudden pain escaped from me. Lucy (the other one) was there by my side before I knew it. She had grasped my hand and was squeezing it in a comforting manner.

John was last to enter the tent. I could still see the disgusted look in his eyes as he paced towards me. Borden backed of slightly. Still looking at me in shock. John whispered something to him, and he disappeared out of the tent. John looked back to us and said:

"Miss O'Shea, could you please help me move this screen around the cot?" I knew it; he was so ashamed, that he didn't want anyone who might accidentally walk in, to see me. I stifled another sob at this. I couldn't believe what had happened to me. I couldn't believe how my world had suddenly collapsed around me, at the hand of a single man.

Lucy (the other one) had returned to my side, and was once again clutching my hand. I looked to her, and she told me not to worry, although I could hardly help but. John was hesitant. He kept looking over the screen, towards the door. After about a minute, he looked back over to me: curled up and again trying to hold together the tares in my undergarments.

"Lucy?" he began, his voice was shaking, and as much as he tried, he couldn't hold eye contact with me. "We need to know who did this to you…"

I did not answer. Answering would have meant admitting that it had happened, and I was not ready to admit it just yet. However Lucy (the other one) spoke for me:

"Now really doctor, dose it really matter _who _did this. The pressing matter would be the fact that it has happened, and we should make sure that Lucy is all right."

This was apparently enough to silence John on the subject, for he did not continue. He once again went to looking out towards the tent door. Seeing this I closed my eyes tightly and again a whimper escaped from my lips. This caused Jane to squeeze my hand again. I was not comfortable in this position.

"Your right…" John began. He started to advance towards me, tying his blood soaked apron around himself as he did. When I saw this, memories came flooding back to me; memories of the previous night, and I tried to move away. There was no where for me to go, but I managed to bring my knees up to my chest again, and as I did so, rapping my arms around them protectively.

John stopped suddenly as he saw this, and he seemed to register what was going on. He took a deep breath in and said:

"I thought this might happen, that's why I've sent for Mrs O'Hara, to assist. Miss O'Shea, I'll need your help as well."

"Why?" Lucy (the other one) asked.

"It appears that last nights ordeals have left Lucy temporally afraid of male presence. Which is understandable considering what has happened to her." John added the last bit suddenly, as though trying to say it heart felt rather than out of spite.

"So what dose that mean?" Lucy (the other one) asked. As nice as she was, it was quite evident that she had never got her hands dirty before.

"It means that Mrs O'Hara and yourself will have to perform the initial examination, under my observation and instruction." John began to untie the apron, from around his neck and once again he peered over the top of the screen and looked towards the door.

When the sound of footsteps could be heard, John moved around the side of the screen, and waited on the other. It was only seconds, before the tent door lifted and in hurried three people.

"Right, I brought her…" Borden sounded, although I could not see him, I could tell that he was still shocked. The next voice must have been that of Charles' wife, Emily.

"Doctor…" she said, her American accent strong against the harsh British; a little like my own. "Is she behind the screen?"

John must have nodded, for the screen was pulled back, only enough for her small frame to squeeze through. Before the woman spoke, John's voice was heard, speaking to the other two.

"Borden, O'Hara. I must ask you to leave. This is really no place for you to be. I will follow shortly."

The two gentlemen left the tent without further question or argument. The woman on my side of the screen still had not said anything, she was just putting the finishing touches to her rolled up sleeves. John's head appeared over the screen once more, and this time he addressed me, looking directly into my eyes:

"I leave you in safe hands, Lucy." And with that said, he turned. Dropping his bloody apron onto the floor, and exiting out of the tent after the other two.

This was the time I turned my full attention on the woman standing before me. It was hard to see the sharpness of her eyes, through my tears. But she seemed confident, her being demanding a certain air.

"You look no older than 18, child." She began shaking her head slightly, as though considering a great loss. "However, know that there are those who will still help you. That you are not alone in your suffering."

I continued to cry; it seemed that it didn't matter what position I tried to lay in, the pain was still unbearable. Her hand reached forward and, like Lucy (the other one) before her, she wiped a tear from my face, before she said:

"I know it hurts. But you mustn't cry, if you fall apart that means he's won." As if those words were magic, I stopped crying, and realised that she was right. "Now…you are amongst friends, and you must let me treat you. Nobody here will hurt you."

It was after a couple of attempts that I finally managed to splutter a grateful "Thank you…" to this woman. She only smiled down warmly again at me, turned to Lucy (the other one) and said:

"Miss O'Shea, will you please bring me a bowl of warm water, and a couple of towels?" Lucy (the other one) quickly obeyed and scurried off, in search for the requested items.

In the time that it took for Lucy (the other one) to return with the objects, Emily (as she had permitted me to call her) was sitting down on the side of my cot, where she was holding onto one of my hands. Lucy (the other one) came in and set the objects down. It was Emily who spoke:

"Now, Lucy, in your own time. You know what I'm going to ask you to do…" And with that she proceeded into one of the most gruelling and painful examinations I had ever suffered.

**-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-**

After about half an hour, Emily had finished. I was clean and wearing a new set of undergarments, which Emily had sent Lucy (the other one) to retrieve. I was sitting up in the cot, my hair braided and my face wiped of all of the tears. Today felt like a new day now. I was ready to embrace what it had to offer with dignity and pride.

Emily was cleaning up, while the person, I now considered a friend and myself talked. We talked about nothingness. The sort of things Ann and I used to talk about. She did ask me about my family, and I told her about them. I told her about how my brothers used to chase the post rider every time he came to deliver our post. I told her about how Margaret used to insist on teaching the younger children their letters. And about how Susan would not speak after the death of our mother six years previous.

Emily would break in once or twice to share a comment, but mostly remained silent to allow me to do all of the talking. It was Emily who asked me about why I was here. And I told her. Every little detail, every moment of pain, all without shedding one tear.

"You're a very brave young woman, Lucy Martin. Very brave indeed." She had replied to my story. Lucy (the other one) could not bring herself to make comment on this, the story apparently to horrific for her to digest. Emily, seeing this, said to her:

"Miss O'Shea, will you please go and fetch me my husband? I think he would be very interested to know what has happened."

"No…" I started. I looked down, again ashamed at myself. "I don't want him to-to know. Charles has been very good to me…" I began, but Emily broke in:

"Don't hide your face Lucy, you have nothing to be ashamed of. None of this were you fault. And yes, I'm afraid he has to know, in order for him to do something about it."

"But…"

"Lucy…something has to be done. You can't just leave it be. We have to know who did this, so they can be punished!"

At this point Lucy (the other one) decided that this was her chance to leave the room, to go and fetch Charles. I was left alone with Emily. My hands found their way to cover my face, and I thought. I thought long and hard. Emily did not push me at all. She sat on the side of the cot and waited patiently for my answer.

"Wilkinson…" I said in a quiet voice, after a long pause. "Wilkinson did it. He followed me last night, I fought him, but he...he…"

"There, there. You don't have to tell me." Emily, sensing that I was close to breaking point again, pulled me towards her and cradled me in a hug; similar to one a mother would give to their daughter. I didn't fight it. It had been so long since I had felt the comforting embrace of a mother figure.

"Now," Emily began, "Tell me about you and my good friend John." John! Again I was quickly brought to tears!

"John and I were engaged. Over 2 years. But now…" At this point I began to wail, "Not even John will want me now! I'm broken, spoiled! No man will ever want me!"

Saving Emily from answering Lucy (the other one) decided that this was her time to return with Charles, Borden and a sullen looking John. They couldn't see me, and I could only see shadows of them through the screen, which surrounded me. Lucy (the other one) quickly squeezed though a space in the screen and sat down on my other side.

Emily chose this moment to move away from me to go and speak with her husband who was waiting patiently, with the other two on the other side of the screen. I fell down on to my back on the cot, and again howled with pain as this new position pained me even more so. I could hear the voice of Emily speaking to them, and the clear shout she gave saying:

"Do you think it is acceptable to do this to another!" The screen pulled apart for the smallest of moments and quickly drew itself again. There wasn't much more shouting after that.

Suddenly I felt exhausted. I hadn't slept at all that night, and at that moment I felt safe. The last thing that I heard, before sleep overtook me, was Emily saying one name:

"Wilkinson…"


	26. A new mission

**A/N: Thank you to Sweet A. K, and MindReadingCoconuts06 my only reviewers. And I promise to stop putting (the other one) behind any mention of Borden's fiancée', Lucy O'Shea. I was reading it through and I agree with you, it is a little annoying. Please keep reading, and reviewing. Ron.**

It took me, the better part of a fortnight to return back to my old self. I knew that I would never be the same again, but you had to move on in life. In that fortnight I had not heard much from Wilkinson, who I was told had gone to see Cornwallis after Charles and Borden had kicked of about the night of the ball. He however, had pleaded his innocence and had got the Lord General to believe him. He went away unpunished. 

John was also keeping his distance, this was hard for me to deal with, for I had always been relatively close to John. He had only come to see me once in the whole two weeks, and even then it was only to reassure me that I was safe. I somehow found that hard to believe.

Emily and Lucy were very kind to me. I had hardly left their site in the whole two weeks. They let me stay with them in the day, and then they would come to visit me in the evening when I didn't come down to dinner. If truth were told, I had hardly left my room for fear of running into a certain Colonial-turned-British Captain. I was still wary of anybody coming to close to me, but Emily had reassured me that it would pass in time.

So here we were. I found myself a part of a group of friends, who would secretly plot in ways we could accidentally castrate that certain Captain. I knew that Emily and Lucy were only jesting when they said this. It was all an act to try and cheer me up. And I have to say that it worked very well.

Today, was one of the rare occasions when Emily and Lucy had enticed me out of my room, and down into the one of the many sitting rooms; where Emily was busying herself with an embroidery, and Lucy and myself were left to talk.

Charles had barged in twice already, and it was only just after 10 in the morning. He would come in and rant on about another supply wagon being ambushed by the famous "Ghost" malitia. It was apparently getting near impossible to secure the delivery of anything, and not to mention that nearly half of the bridges had been destroyed, between here and Charleston.

As he barged in yet again, I took this as my chance to let my mind wander. Thoughts passed of that last visit to Charleston, and then the two years after that when Aunt Charlotte had to close her home, due to the invasion of the British. I had always wanted to go and stay in Charleston with Charlotte, if only for a few weeks, it would have given me a look at life in the city.

I looked up at Charles, who appeared to be even more ruffled than normal. Emily had risen from her chair and was trying to physically calm him down. She was very good at that. It had turned out that she and John had worked in the same hospital, in Washington. She a nurse and him a student doctor. That must have been why he had said that I was in safe hands with her.

"I can't believe it!" Shouted Charles. At this point I decided to pay a little more attention to him than I had been. "They let the bloody commander escape!"

"What's happened, Charles?" I asked.

"What's happened?" he seemed to be breathing rather harder than what was necessary, "Tavington! Him and his men have gone and captured 18 members of the 'Ghost' Malitia! Killed I don't know how many, but he let their leader escape!"

"But surly that's good" commented Lucy from somewhere to my left.

"Of course it's good if you look at it like that." Charles continued, "But think. With the commander still at large, he's going to come for the others. And I have you three to worry about. That's why I want you to go."

"What?" It was Emily's turn to speak. "Where would we go? There's no point us moving half way around the country, just in case the malitia's leader comes to try and free his men."

"Emily…" Charles was wound up so tightly it looked as though he would snap at any minute, "Please don't argue. It's already been arranged. An escort will lead you to Washington. You leave tomorrow noon."

And with that, he turned on his heel and left the room, not waiting to hear his wives views on the subject. Emily just shook her head, and once she sat back down, continued with her embroidering. Neither of the other two spoke for a while, and I was glad. That meant that I could gaze out of the window, and see what was going on outside.

In the square, directly outside of the manor, I saw what seemed to be a wooden cage being assembled. A cage big enough for people. And just to its side, were a group of men. All tied at the wrists with rope, obviously waiting for the cage to be finished.

I surveyed all of the men, out of the window. Something definitely seemed familiar. But when I reached one face, I let out a little yelp of recognition.

"Lucy?" Emily began, "are you alright?"

I didn't answer. I got up from my chair by the window and raced to the door. Emily and Lucy just watched me go, with no indication of trying to stop me. I raced through the hallway and into the entrance. One of the doors was open, so I didn't have to worry about how to unlock the thing.

I continued through the door, and once out in the square, I slowed down to a walk. The malitia were now inside they're newly assembled cage and the guards were half the number of what they were.

Dressed in one of Emily's spare dresses, I proceeded towards the guards outside the cage. They looked new, so maybe I could pull this one off. I stopped mere paces before them and said:

"Leave us." I said with a confidence, which surprised me.

The guard looked suspiciously at me for a moment, and I was sure that he didn't believe me. However, as he moved away I smiled to myself. Happy with my success.

When the guard was out of earshot, I approached the cage, not even turning back to check whether anyone was looking from one of the window's in the manor.

My hands curled around two of the bars, and I could see that the men were all sitting down, conversing quietly to each other, none had noticed me. In a quiet voice I said:

"Mr Billings?" I looked around slightly towards the guard to see if he had overheard me. He wasn't looking at me, but was making his way towards the other guards stationed by the manor doors.

"Mr Billings!" I repeated with a little more urgency in my voice. I didn't want to be caught here. I looked around again, nobody had detected me yet.

On my second attempt, not Mr Billings, but a reverend looked up and saw me. He too, had recognition in his eyes. Once getting his attention, I pointed towards Mr Billings. The reverend lent over another of the prisoners and tapped Mr Billings arm.

Billings looked up as the reverend pointed towards me. As our eyes met, a smile came to Billings' face. He got to his feet, crossed over to where I was and took my hand from the bar in his.

"Lucy…" he began, but a boy of no more than 16 years of age interrupted, having also got to his feet:

"Are you Lucy Martin?" I looked over to him and nodded. He continued, "Ben and Gabrielle haven't talked of much else."

"How are they?" I asked. It was Billings who answered:

"Been worrying sick about you. Thought you were dead. Gabrielle came into the camp, about two weeks ago. He got chased out though."

I was nodding again. It was a relief to know that they were at least still alive. But then it hit me.

"My father…" I began, voice once again trembling, "Is he the 'Ghost'?"

It was Billings' turn to nod. A deep breath escaped me at this. The British could not know. They could never find out.

"Why are you still here? It's been months since you were taken."

"You mean why aren't I dead…" Billings hung his head at this, but I continued, "I don't know myself. But I'm being moved to Washington tomorrow noon."

"I'll tell your father. Depending of course whether we get out of here." Billings said. I gripped his hand tightly and said in a quiet voice, which caused him to bend towards me a little:

"There's always horses tied up out side. I'll open the gate before I go tomorrow. You stay until you feel it's safe to go. Take the horses and go. Don't tell my father either…I'm probably better of dead."

"Lucy? What do you mean?"

But before he could continue I had pulled his hand towards me and lightly kissed the top of our joined hands, before I said:

"Good bye, John Billings."

And with that I turned on my heel and proceeded back towards the manor. I had a mission. I had given my word that that gate would be open and come tomorrow noon, it would be.


	27. Night strolls and bitch slaps

**A/N: Sorry, sorry, sorry I haven't updated in ages. You all have permission to beat me with pointed sticks. I can't believe I haven't updated in so long, but after I went on F/F and saw that I was number 28, I thought, "Right, something has to be done about this" and so here is chapter 27 for your enjoyment. Thank you for reading and sorry again. Please review and I may have the next chapter up soon. Ron.**

Dinner that night was a special occasion for our leaving the next day, and so I had been physically dragged out of my room and into the dinning room to share it. You wouldn't have thought there was a war on, for the meal that was laid out was fit for kings. I was scared to touch any of it for fear that I would break any of it. It was, as I would have behaved in a china store.

I was sat in between Emily and Borden, in a very lavishly furnished room, surrounded by some of Britains most powerful war commanders. Cornwallis had decided to join us and we were told that Corneal Tavington was to join us after. Major Borden had been allowed to join us, for his fiancée' was one of the party leaving tomorrow. No Captains were here, for their rank was considered insufficient. This pleased me a great deal, for I had every intention of avoiding a certain traitor Captain.

My good friend John had been invited, but was later held up with some of his patients. This pained me, for this could be the last time that I would be able to see my good friend for quite a while. Although I was still unsure as how to make him out.

The conversation around the dining room was flowing easily. The topics kept changing, but somehow always managed to return to the weather. I didn't participate. I felt myself ill qualified. I had had too many other matters on my mind.

"Do you agree Lucy?" Borden said from my side. I had been so rapped up in my own little world that I didn't have a clue what he was asking me about.

"Yes…absolutely." I offered, hoping beyond hope that the conversation wouldn't be pushed.

Thankfully Borden turned around and said to Cornwallis, "See, at least I have Miss Martins support in the matter."

There was a slam of a door from outside, and the conversation grew quiet. A cold gust of wind found it's way into the dinning room, and a tall silhouette of a man stood in the open doorway.

"LUCY!" the figure shouted. And again he shouted, "LUCY!"

Not quite sure of whom it was, I was a little dubious about going to him. But after a third yell of my name, I stood from my seat.

"Pray excuse me a moment." And I left the table, walking surly towards the man.

On my way out from the room, I closed the door, not wanting the people inside to be subject to whatever it was that this man wanted. I looked up and into his face. John was standing in the doorway, covered with his doctor's bloody apron, and blind DRUNK!

This was only the second time that I had seen John drunk, and wondered briefly, that after the last time, what horrid secrets would I find out this time.

"What's the matter John?" I asked with no feeling. I had no pity for a man who was drunk.

"I need to speak to you…" he replied in a shaky voice.

"We're speaking now, aren't we?" I said, knowing that I could loose my lady like manor with a man who was drunk, for he probably wouldn't remember it.

"Outside…" he was beginning to sway, "it's important." He sounded as though he was talking reason again, but as soon as he began to walk I could see just how drunk he was. I was surprised that he could actually stand.

I however followed him, quickly grabbing a cloak from within the closet as we made for the front door.

The cold wind stung my cheek, and as I took a deep breath in, I wished I hadn't. There was no sign of snow, or of rain for that matter, it was just an exceptionally cold night. I let out an involuntary shudder, as the wind penetrated through my cloak. Together we walked away from the front of the house, away from the prying eyes and listening ears within the cage, and of the guards out side.

About 20 yards away from the house there was the patio that the dancing at the ball had taken place on. I noticed that two or three little benches were put back on the edge of the patio, so that they could look out over the lake. John and I were now by these benches when I said;

"Now what did you want to talk about?" I asked him, sure that I wasn't going to stay out here long. I could see there was a group of guards around the wooden cage where the prisoners were being kept, and suddenly my heart went out to them on a night such as this.

"Oh, Lucy…" But by the time that my name was spoken, John had started to cry. I did a sort of double take, for when I looked at him I couldn't see the strong doctor that I had come to know, but I saw a shattered man before me, who was weeping like a child.

Having had to look after some of my younger brothers and sisters back at the plantation, my motherly instincts kicked in and I went to comfort John. I went to hug him in a comforting embrace, but as soon as I touched him, he pulled away and turned violently.

"John what's wrong?" I asked, feeling slightly hurt that he pulled away from me. Although I didn't realise it, adrenaline had started pumping through me causing my breathing to quicken.

He didn't look back at me, but from somewhere within his bear like frame, a small voice spoke to me. "I can't pretend…not any more."

"John what are you talking ab…"

"About you and me." He cut in.

"I…I don't understand." I said, once again moving towards him. It was much easier to talk to someone if you could see their face. As I touched Johns arm, he spun around, too quickly for a man who was intoxicated and grabbed both of my arms in his.

My instant reaction was to try and pull away, but that proved impossible, for as I did this his hands gripped tighter. I looked up into his face and saw tears shining on his cheeks.

"I love you Lucy. I LOVE you. Always have." This was no surprise. I had been engaged to the man for over two years. But what he said next burned into my heart. "I love you, but I can't take you now."

"John…what do you mean?" I was surprised at how shaky my voice was, it didn't even sound like my own. I always knew that John wouldn't take me after what happened with Wilkinson, but I just hoped that maybe he would. He however continued, in a pained voice that was once again on the verge of tears:

"I thought it wouldn't matter. I thought I was stronger, than to let something like that bother me. God knows that as a doctor I've seen it happen time and time again. I wasn't going to let it matter." He prised his eyes away from me, and looked around him. There was no sun left in the sky now, and a blanketing mist was settling on the manor grounds. John continued:

"But it dose. I'd been engaged to you for two years! And I waited! You should have been mine! Not that bastard Wilkinson's!" His hands never let go of my arms, and there was a tingling feeling beginning in my hands.

"John," I began in vein, "It's still me, Lucy. Your Lucy!"

"But you're not, not anymore." Fresh tears were welling up within his eyes, as he said, "I don't want his spoils…"

All emotion went from my face as he said this. I however never took my eyes away from his. I spoke in a hysterical-although-trying-to-hide-it kind of voice and said:

"Is that all I am!" No reply came from him, "Is that all I am to you! HIS SPOILS!" I was fuming! I thought that John understood; I could have sworn that he above all others would have understood. He let go of my arms; and a second later my hand found its way, swinging towards the side of his face.

John, either to drunk or stupid enough to try and avoid my hand, felt the full fury of it. My hand stung as it left his face. There was all the power that I could muster put into that one slap, but even my best attempt was not enough to push him of his feet. He stood there as tall as ever, unmoved by my hand. My breathing was rapid, and all I wanted to do was to hit him again I was so angry with him. Angry with what he had said, and in parts angry that my slap hadn't even moved him!

His face tightened, the man who was only moments ago in tears had gone. The man in front of me was not the same man that I knew. A rage overtook John, and in his drunken state, he quickly raised his right arm, and let loose his anger.

With one slap, I was forced onto the floor. My one hand clutching my swelling cheek where John had just hit me. I looked up at him, now standing sadistically above me. He took a deep breath in and shouted to me,

"I should have done that years ago! You should know your place! You've been speaking out of tern ever since you could talk. Any respectable man would be ashamed of a wife like you! I know I would, but I've got off lucky. Imagine if I had married you…" All that John was saying was cutting through me like a knife, leaving wounds that would probably never heal.

"What John?" I shouted from the floor, "What would life have been like for you? How bad would it have been? Bad enough that you never wanted to leave the house? Bad enough that you thought that you would never trust anyone again? Bad enough that you even didn't want to carry on living?"

He looked as though he was contemplating this, but I continued, spilling all that I had been feeling for that past few months. "Because that's what it's been like for me! Constantly looking over my shoulder to see who's behind me, watching, waiting to stab me in the back! Too scared to go to sleep at night, or to be part of a group!"

I could see my breath in front of me, and for all I felt, I wanted to slap it back in. John didn't say anything else. His eyes were to the floor, not to me, and for that I was glad. For when I looked into his eyes, I didn't see John. So this is what blind rage must have looked like for there was another standing in the place where John had stood.

There was the sound of feet crunching the hardening grass to the right of me. And as I looked up, none other than Tavington was walking towards us. A sneer formulating at the corner of his mouth.

"Now, now. Let's break up this lovers tiff." He looked at me still lying on the floor, where John had left me, and back to John standing above me. What this must have looked like, I couldn't be sure. I showed no sign of moving while John was still above me. I was still so surprised that he had actually hit me. John was the one man that I felt that I had a little control over. But sure, how many people would stand to be hit, and not hit back.

"Doctor Porter, you have patients do you not?" Tavington addressed John.

"Yes…" John began, bringing his hand to his head as though deep in thought. "Yes I have."

"Well run along, and I'll make sure that Miss Martin gets back into the house alright." Tavington must have been enjoying the scene for the smirk to his face hadn't diminished.

John, head still in his hands, didn't even look back at me. He just turned and walked. I watched him until I could not, until the darkness devoured him. And I was left alone with Tavington. I looked up at him, only to see him staring down at me.

"What? Aren't you going to help a lady of the ground?" I was still angry with John, but what Tavington said next only stoked the fires more.

"A lady? Let me know when you see one."

"You really are insufferable! You know that!" I tried, in a most ladylike manner to raise myself off the dirt, until I was once again on my feet. Once up, I brushed the dirt off my dress and looked into his eyes. "And thank you, but I am perfectly capable of getting up to the house on my own."

With that I started to walk towards the house. I only got about five paces away from him, before I hear his malicious laughter, mocking me.

"Prey tell, what is so funny?" I asked, turning around to face him.

"You." He said, "You give the impression of being all hard and indestructible, but really you're just a scared little girl trying to play with the big kids."

"Look…" I said, starting towards him. There was something about Tavington that really got to me. "I've already slapped one person this evening…"

"Yes, and he hit you back…" Tavington said, not meeting my challenge as I thought he would. Instead he paced one step closer to me, and placed one of his hands on my burning cheek. "That looks painful."

"It is!" I said, feeling unsure of why he was being so kind to me all of a sudden.

"Under the circumstances, I don't think you should see our doctor."

"No," I said with a hint of a laugh in my voice.

"It will probably leave a bruise."

"Probably. But it's no where near the worst I've ever had, you and Wilkinson should know that." The innocent smile was not enough to fool Tavington. He looked up and then met my eyes once again.

"I promise to do all I can to make sure that your last few hours here are as safe as possible." The smile was now evident on his features.

"Why thank you, William." I said, all of a sudden feeling embarrassed. Now it was my turn to look at the floor.

Tavington however, mealy laughed again, and held his arm out for me to take. As I linked arms with him, I silently wondered why he was suddenly being nice to me.

"Shall we?" He asked. I only nodded, and as we started towards the manor and again all thoughts of freeing the imprisoned malitia men were out of my head. Tomorrow. It would have to be tomorrow.


	28. Many mad moments

**A/N: Again sorry I haven't updated for so long, this chapter just seemed to go on forever! But isn't it a good one! And extra long as well! Aren't you lucky! Anyway, make of it what you will, but most of all enjoy it! Feel free to review me (although I probably don't deserve it). Hope you enjoy it. Ron.**

I didn't sleep that night. There was so much that had to be done. It was true that I had arrived at the camp with nothing, but over the short few months that I had been there, I had accumulated a few things.

So there I was, 3am in the morning, the sun no where to be seen, trying to shove the last of Jane's dresses into my trunk. A lone candle shone from it's place on the wooden desk, casting long shadows over the large room, that had been mine for the last few weeks.

"If I sat on you, would you close?" I asked the trunk in a tired voice almost expecting an answer. I wasn't surprised when none came.

"What would anyone say if they saw me talking to a trunk?" I must have looked verging on madness, for not only were I having a conversation with a trunk, but it was gone 3am, and there were a few stray hairs escaping my bun, framing my face in a perfect picture of insanity.

A weary sigh escaped me, and I abandoned my task.

"I have to be the only one crazy enough to be up at this time…" I looked quickly out of the window and "I guess I'm wrong." There were two guards outside, and I couldn't see the wooden cage that the colonials were in. But for all I knew, there could have been a hundred guards, guarding that cage.

"This time tomorrow, I'll be asleep in Washington and I won't have a trouble in the world." I stretched my tired and aching shoulders to the ceiling and continued, "I'll never have to see John or Wilkinson again. I'll never have to see Tavington again…" My train of thought stopped there. "I'll never see Tavington again…"

That man had twisted my emotions and feelings around enough to last me a lifetime! One minute he was lovely to me, inviting me to Balls, rescuing me from John, but then the next minute he was toying with me, beating me and causing me as much pain as he could!

The only question that was in my mind, as I went back to my packing was that, "Would I miss Tavington is I were to never see him again?" he must have been on a nice streak, for he was going through one of his lovely phases.

"He's playing with me…" I concluded. "I'm sure he has me exactly where he wants me, and I still don't know the real reason that he brought me here! Why didn't he just shoot me, like he shot Thomas?"

"That man has a lot of explaining to do! A lot of explaining indeed!"

With these thoughts circulating in my mind, I knew that I wouldn't be able to clear it until these matters were resolved. My conscious wouldn't allow it.

"Since I'm leaving tomorrow anyway, what harm can it do?" I pulled Charles spare jacket from the top of my trunk, and slipped it over my shoulders. "I'll just go and see him, and clear a few things up."

My mind was made up. I slipped a pair of shoes over my bare feet, tightened the jacket around myself, and started towards the door. As I turned the handle, a large sigh escaped me, and I whipped through the door, mealy a shadow in the fading candlelight.

The halls were dark and mysterious that night. The shadows were long and unnerving. My eyes adjusted to the darkness, and I was like a cat burglar. A wisp of material remained as I abruptly turned a corner leading me through the halls and towards the stairs. I left no trace of my being there, there was only the faint sound of my hurrying footsteps across the polished wooden floor.

I knew that Tavington didn't sleep at the house. No, he slept down in the fields with his men. I suppose he wanted to be in the thick of trouble, should there be any. I had even heard rumours that he slept with one eye open, with a loaded pistol under his pillow.

A smirk tugged at my lips. Yes, that's the sort of thing that he would do. There were too many people who wanted to kill him for him to be able to sleep soundly.

Suddenly I stopped. What if the rumours were true, and that when I get to his tent he shoots me!

"Snap out of it!" I barked at myself. "It won't be the first time that he's tried to shoot me!"

My feet started to move again with the same brisk and almost urgent pace as they did before. I knew that if I stopped again, I wouldn't be able to start.

Before I knew it I was on the stairs, looking down towards the closed heavy wooden doors.

I took a minute to catch my breath, I wasn't even aware that I was running until I stopped. There was a pounding in my head that I could only assume was adrenaline. I felt as though I could run a marathon and at 3am that wasn't bad!

The hallway was empty, or at least all that I could see was. There were no candles lit, but a mystic light was cast through the high windows by the moon outside.

I took my first step onto the stairs and an almighty creek emerged from it! That surly would have awakened the whole house it was that loud! But thankfully there were no sounds of anyone stirring from the floors above me. Another sigh of relief escaped me, and as quick as I could without falling, I cleared the staircase.

Once at the bottom, I looked frantically around, sure that someone was going to catch me. But there was no one. There wasn't even the sound of a fire crackling away in the library. With that in mind, I made my way towards the door.

With a mighty push, the door creaked slowly open, drenching the hallway with the moons silver light.

The air was cold, and it stung my lungs as it went down. I once again looked frantically around, but there was nobody there.

"Strange…" I whispered to myself. Where were all the guards?

There was little to no sound coming from the occupied cage to the front of me. It's occupants must be asleep.

I looked around once again, there was defiantly nobody there. No one to see me, and I had made a promise. All I had to do is to unlock the cage, and the colonials would be free! Free to go home, free to go back to my father, the "Ghost".

He wouldn't be afraid. He wouldn't be afraid to do what was right. My father would have walked up to the cage and opened it in front of Cornwallis himself, if he could.

"Then why are you afraid?" I said to myself.

My fathers voice echoed through my head with a saying that he had long ago taught us, "Never be afraid to do the right thing!" I am my fathers daughter, and I will not be afraid.

"I'm not afraid…" I said a little more loudly to myself and my feet began to move.

The occupants of the cage were indeed asleep. Their warm breath was creating mist in the cold air as they breathed out. I got to the door and looked at the lock.

"Damm!" I muttered, a key was needed to open the lock. I looked around, there was no obvious place you would keep a key. Then suddenly out of the mist:

"OY! What the hell are you doing!" I spun around. I felt like a child with their hand caught in the cookie jar. Some of the occupants in the cage stirred in their sleep, but none of them awoke. I looked around and I saw the frame of a slight man emerging from the side of the house. He must have been the guard in charge of the cages keep. This was one of the few occasions in my life that I had to think on my feet and come up with something brilliant. Thankfully my wit didn't let me down:

"I'm just out for a walk, I couldn't sleep." The guards face was in the dark shadow of the house, so I couldn't see his face. But I continued "You wouldn't have the time would you?" My breath was caught in my chest, and I felt really uncomfortable. I was just waiting for his answer.

"Yes, it's half an hour past 3." His voice was stern and deep for such a little man.

"Thank you. Thank you very much" With that I turned and continued walking, only I wasn't walking toward the house, I was going straight into camp. There was a man there who owed me a lot of answers.

The ground on the way down towards the camp was damp with mildew so the hem of my dress had suffered. It was as I began to make my way through the many tents, I realised that I had no idea as to where Tavington's tent actually was.

There were very few lights on within the camp, and little noise surprisingly for a camp of its size. In the darkness all the starched tents looked the same.

A lone owl hooted from somewhere in the distance. I looked around, trying to capture everything that I could in the lack of light. Every direction that I turned in, presented to me the same view!

"Come on Lucy…" I muttered to myself, "You know your way around this camp by now!".

There was only one thing that I could think of to do…pick a direction and walk down there until I saw something that seemed familiar.

"South, that's this way" I once again muttered as I found my bearings. This had turned into a much greater task than I thought it would be!

I did as I had decided. I walked. Walked looking in every possible direction that I could. I felt particularly vulnerable. Who knows what was hiding, no lurking in the shadows.

After a few minutes that seemed to go on for hours, I stumbled into a clearing in the tents, and HALAULA I recognised the long white tent in the middle of it all as the medical tent.

I let out a sigh of relief, "Well tank god I found this…"

I quietly lifted the starched flap, only enough to slip through and I entered it.

Looking around painfully as my eyes adjusted to the bright light of the burning candle in the corner, I saw that the first bed as your entered the tent was occupied by none other than John, himself.

He was sleeping so heavily, that I doubt a almighty battle would awaken him! He was no doubt sleeping off the alcohol, for it must have taken a lot of it to make a man the size of John as intoxicated as he was earlier that evening.

I walked tentatively around the sleeping bear and saw the occupant of the next bed. There was no physical injury that I could see, but he was huddled tightly under the blankets on a night such as this.

I crouched down next to him, and carefully placed my one hand on his shoulder.

"Private…" I said as I gently shook him as to awaken him, "Private" This time with a little more urgency in my voice.

Slowly the soldiers eyes fluttered open, surely he was dazed. His eyes were all out of focus. When he did hone in on me, he tried to sit up in bed. My hand on his shoulder gently pushed him back onto the bed and I asked him:

"Please could you tell me where Corneal Tavington's tent is?"

With no room for discussion the private replied in a just-woken-up voice "Follow the square round until your facing east and it's the 3rd, no 4th tent on your right."

"Thank you." Not waiting for him to reply, I straightened up and began walking out of the tent. As I reached the door, I looked back at the helpful solider and saw that he was already asleep.

It took me no time at all to find Tavington's tent (after a brief hesitation deciding which way was east that it). The air had turned even colder than before it that was at all possible, and my teeth had begun to chatter. A foul wind had picked up, only serving to vex me greater, for it really was a cold night.

I stood outside his tent, wanting to go in and see if the rumours were true, but also frightened of what would happen if they were. After an exceptionally cold sweep, I decided that inside the tent would be better than freezing to death outside, even with what was inside.

Slowly I lifted the flap, a little at a time as not to cause to much commotion. It didn't take long for my eyes to adjust to the light, the candle on the side desk had long burned out. I looked around, panic rising within me. It was as though I had entered the lions den and it was only a matter of time until it appeared.

My eyes focused on a figure lying on the cot, covered in a blanket, and a pair of boots discarded on the floor in front of it. It was him, it had to be.

The rumours obviously weren't true; he didn't sleep with one eye open otherwise he would have seen me by now. I took a step closer to the sleeping figure and said:

"Wake up Tavington!" There was no movement from under the covers. Again a step closer brought on a new cry, "Wake up!"

Before I knew it, I was pushed on the floor, my arms pinned, with a gun pointed at my throat. The figure of Tavington holding the gun above me.

"Don't shoot!" I pleaded. For knowing Tavington, that would have been the first thing he would have wanted to do. My chest was rising and falling quickly, a new flush of adrenaline pumping through me. I didn't know where to look. I could see a faint glimmer of the shinny metal, which if fired could kill me in an instant. But what was more pressing, was that a bear chested Tavington was pinning me to the floor, using the weight of his body to keep me from moving.

"I guess the rumours are true, after all". I began,

"What?" Demanded an obviously cranky Tavington. He couldn't have woken up fully, for his eyes were out of focus.

"Nothing…" I looked straight up into his eyes, pleadingly and said "Let me up…please."

Without a reply, Tavington shifted, lessening the weight pressing down on me, but what was most important, was that he took the gun with him. He found his feet, and surly held out a hand for me to take. Taking his had, I pulled myself up from the floor, and brushed the front of my dress.

"What the hell are you doing here?" with a quick look at his watch, "And at this time in the morning?"

"I can explain,"… I was slightly ruffled by what had just happened, "So long as you promise not to shoot me!"

"Well that depends on why you've woken me up". He said, turning from me, and fumbling with something on his desk. The next thing I knew, a match had been lit and the candle was burning brightly on the desk. My arm went up to cover my eyes, the light stung them.

Tavington sat down in the chair in front of the desk, and after a deep sigh looked directly at me. "So why are you here?"

"I want some answers" I said with a confidence.

"Like what?" he replied, still looking at me.

"Like…" I said trying to think of something, now being out on the spot, "Why didn't you kill me back at the plantation?" I thought you might as well start at the very beginning. He took his eyes away from mine and took a deep breath in.

"I didn't kill you because you were a challenge. Not many people would shoot at the famous "Butcher" and then try to fight your way out of arrest. You broke one of my men's jaws as I remember."

I didn't know if he was humouring me or not. "But wasn't Thomas a challenge also, he ran at your men and tried to free Gabrielle". I could tell that this was going to be a long night.

He didn't answer me. And I guessed he wasn't going to. Although his eyes never left my own. I however continued onto my next question:

"How come your really nice to me one minute and then beating me the next?" This was a fair question. He was more emotionally unstable than anyone who I had ever known. His moods went up and down like a yo-yo.

I placed my hands on my hips, waiting for his answer. In the light of the burning candle I saw his one eyebrow raise as though not sure that he had heard my question right.

Tavington took a deep breath in and said, "What can I say? I have problems controlling my anger. It makes a bad companion, but an excellent solider!"

"I'm sure it dose. But is that also how you have come to have the nickname butcher? Surly that cannot be all good…" I began, although was cut of by the man himself:

"You had heard of me…" he looked up at my confused face, but then continued, "as the butcher?"

"Yes. I heard terrible accounts of what you had done. The man without mercy and kindness, who would butcher surrendering men, and kill the wounded!" I was getting carried away with myself. All of a sudden I looked at the man who was sitting in front of me, and I was disgusted! This was the man who had burned my home, killed my brother and also slaughtered all the wounded colonials!

"Yes, but you had heard of me!" he said. "You had heard of my reputation and you were scared! That's what makes an excellent commander! I struck fear into the hearts of the very men I was fighting!"

"But that's not something you should be proud of." I spat at him. I pulled my eyes away from him, and then I saw it. The shining glint of a silver key placed upon Tavington's desk, not a foot away from where he had placed his gun. Of course Tavington would have the key for a cage.

My mind was racing. I had to get that key, but how! 'Do what you always do' a small voice in my head said…'talk your way out'.

"OK, why is John here? Are you holding him here?" I was trying not to keep looking at the key on the desk, but the more I wanted to avoid looking a it, the more my eyes seemed to wander back to it.

"John…" Tavington began, "What do you know about John?"

"I know that he wouldn't come and work for the British if he had a choice about it!" Why was I defending John? He had hurt me last night with the horrible things he said…and he had slapped me. HARD! It seemed the more I tried to act normal, the more eccentric I was becoming. I felt that every thing I did must have looked as un-natural as it could have done.

"Well it just shows that you don't know him as well as you thought." Tavington rose from his chair, and stretched his shoulders back. Registering what he had just said:

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"I mean," said Tavington moving towards me, "That everything comes at a price. John is only too happy to work for us, lord knows we're paying him enough for the privilege."

Tavington's body was now covering the sight of the key. I could only try and keep with the conversation and hopefully distract him, long enough so that I could get it.

"Then he's a traitor too, just like Wilkinson." My eyes looked to the ground as Tavington was now only a few feet away from me. Probably trying to see my reaction.

"Ok. One more question and then I want to go back to sleep." He said, yawning at the end. This was my chance.

"Are…" I began, not believing that I was about to say this, "Are you married?" My eyes stayed on the floor, if I looked up at him, I might just see how foolish I was being and then run out of the tent.

There was no sound for a second, and then came the tired sound of the word, "No."

Before I could help myself I had asked him, "Why not?" I looked up at him after this statement, genuinely wanting to see his reaction. But soon I was away, not even giving him the chance to speak.

"You see, I think the real reason why you let me live all them months ago at the plantation, was that you liked me. That is why you are always so horrible to me, you didn't know how to deal with your feelings. That's why you told me about Borden and is fiancée, and that's why your always rescuing me from John, you don't want me to get too attached to either of them!"

Saying this allowed, it seemed to make sense. Even though I had never thought about it before. Could this honestly be how he felt, or was it just all coincidence that it all seemed perfect to make my plan work.

I didn't think about it! I didn't let him think about it. I gave him enough time to absorb it, but not enough time to think it over. My mind was once again racing, but in my madness, I stepped forward and kissed him. It seemed the right thing to do.

He obviously wasn't expecting that at all. But he didn't make to push me off, or move back. Before I knew it he was kissing me back! And in a tangled mess (for arms were now flying), I was nudged towards the desk and my hand went down onto the surface.

My cheeks were flushed and burning against the cold air as I walked back up towards the manor. But there was one quick thing that I needed to do, before I went inside. A smile came upon my face, and I began to run. There was a pressing matter that needed sorting. And a promise was a promise.

It was crazy! There was nobody about. The guard that was there earlier had gone and all was quiet. It seemed almost too perfect. I could see my breath in front of me as I ran, but I didn't care.

I looked around once more as I neared the wooden cage that my fellow colonials were being kept in. There really was nobody around. If I were quick, nobody would even know that I had been here, and that the colonials had escaped. If they went now, they would be far gone by morning and were discovered missing! It was perfect!

"Mr Billings!" I said with urgency in my voice. It was true that all men slept heavily, but not on this night. As soon as I called his name, his eyes fluttered open. He looked up at me beaming and I nodded my head in answer to his unasked question.

It was at that moment that I pulled a heavy silver key out of my coat pocket with a smile that could have matched Mr Billings himself. Soon enough I was trying desperately to open the door, but I couldn't find the keyhole as much as I wanted to. I must have been shaking, for the key and the keyhole seemed to be miles apart.

Mr Billings had started rousing the other sleeping malitia. Soon they were all on their feet and ready to go. Mr Billings seeing my struggle grasped my hand and directed it into the keyhole. And the door swung open. The malitia were free!

"Thank you, Lucy." Said Mr Billings, still not letting go of my hand, the other men filing out of the cage and running to the open gate where horses waited to carry them to freedom.

I didn't answer, I just kept nodding my head. It was the young boy who spoke to me next, "Come with us."

"I can't" I said. "Now hurry, you must go, before somebody comes".

"How can we ever repay you?" Mr Billings said, letting go of my hand and edging towards the open gate.

"Run…" I said, beginning to push him. "Run and go back to my father, to drive the British out of here! And Mr Billings, don't tell my father that I'm here."

He looked a little stunned at this mad request. But after me pushing him again, he turned and ran.

"Go, and live. Be free." I said to his running back. I could feel my heart pumping in my ears, and could feel myself physically shaking.

Then I heard it. I knew it was too good to be true. There was the distant sound of somebody's footsteps in the crunchy grass. I looked around, but at that moment, I heard a bang, followed by the sound of a bullet flying past my ear. There wasn't just one of them, there was a whole regiment.

"RUN!" I shouted at the retreating men as more bullets were released.

There was the sound of a scuffle, men were yelling and more bullets. My plan was ruined. We were caught.

In the thick of all the noise, I didn't hear someone pace right up to me. A tight hand was about my arm and when I looked to see who it was, I was looking into the cold eyes of William Tavington.


	29. The Silent Flag

-1**A/N: Ok, I spent all day working on this so I hope you like it. Sorry again that it's been so long since I updated, but college has been hectic and I'm dealing with my University application (3 interviews…go me!). Anyway, enjoy this one and I'll try to get the next one done soon. Ron xxx.**

All around me men were dieing. The men who's life was now to be the cost of my putrid attempt to make them free once more. The soldiers were running past me towards the retreating backs of the freed colonials. Bullets were flying, only in one direction…towards my American brethren.

His hand tightened around my arm once more, I had almost forgotten he was there. The grisly scene that was playing around me seemed to slow down, in to slow motion, making every successful bullet more difficult to bear, knowing that it was I who caused it.

I would not look up at him. I was to ashamed about what I had done to get the key to hell as it now seems, from him. I was scared about what sordid emotions I would find lurking beneath the surface of his icy hot eyes. He had managed to put a shirt on, that much I could see, and was thankful for.

He leaned in close to my ear and sadistically whispered, "Well, lets see what Cornwallis thinks of this little display!" and with that he pulled me so hard I was sure that my arm would rip of. We were moving, at a hurried pace. Tavington was dragging me nearly off my feet with his speed.

I eventually pulled my eyes away from the bloody carnage, frightened to watch any more. Those men were good men, who didn't deserve to die. It was my fault. It was my fault that they were dead and dieing. My eyes began to sting with salty tears and those few words echoed around in my head, it's my fault they are dead, I caused this.

"No!" Someone shouted from behind. I knew that voice without even having to look at who it was. "I want them alive!" Wilkinson was shouting at his borrowed men.

Tavington continued to drag me up the steps and into the manor. That was the last that I saw of the butchered colonials.

The manor was alive! People were coming out of every door, trying to see what all the commotion was. But Tavington paid none of them any heed, it seemed as though he was ignoring them. He continued on rout, pulling me reluctantly behind him. I knew where we were going.

Up the stair case now, and on to the first floor. Then I saw him. Cornwallis was emerging from the second floor on the stair case. In his bed clothes, pulling a dressing gown hurriedly around him. His powered wig missing and bare footed. This was the British Warlord that the colonials feared, this was the man that knew more about warfare that we could hope to learn in a thousand lifetimes, a comforting thought I know. But yet here he was, ruffled at having been pulled out of bed at four in the morning. An almost humorous sight.

"Tavington!" he shouted as he shook sleep from his mind. Tavington stopped abruptly, and I walked straight into the back of him causing another uncomfortable union. Tavington didn't look to him or back at me, he kept facing the opposite wall.

A bang from down in the hall distracted the Lord General, "Sir, the colonials have escaped!" shouted the young guardsman from before bursting in through the heavy oak doors.

Cornwallis took a deep breath in trying to digest all the information he had been force fed and glared at Tavington. "What is this about, Tavington!" Tavington remained silent, his stubborn nature evident. "Fine," Cornwallis said, obviously vexed by the situation. "In my office".

At that Tavington started pulling me again, another break neck yank that could have dislocated my arm. Cornwallis followed behind, although at a much more leisurely pace. I don't think he's seen me yet. He hasn't acknowledged me in any way. There was obviously some major personality clash between the two men. An obvious power struggle that spanned back a long time.

We reached the door to Cornwallis' office, and Tavington, not waiting for the Lord General to invite him in, burst through the doors and into the circular office. I had only seen the inside of this office once or twice before, but it never failed to impress me. There was a table in the middle, sporting many maps of the country. There were little gold devises holding them in place, there to decide which direction was which or some other trivial purpose.

Cornwallis' desk sat underneath the windowsill and there proudly stood the British flag, barley visible in the lacking light. Tavington seemed to be breathing harder than usual. He looked as though he was desperately wanting to say something, but was trying his best to hold it in.

"William…" I began, not sure what I wanted to say, but feeling as though I had to say something. But before I could the Lord General himself strutted into the room highly resembling a pruning peacock; making a point of slamming the door shut behind himself.

His eyes were wild as he walked straight past us and to his wooden desk. He sat himself down on the comfy chair and glared up at the 6 foot something Cornel with evident hatred, his sense of authority made his chest swell. If I wasn't careful this would turn into a power contest before my very eyes.

Cornwallis, without even looking away from Tavingtons gaze, lit the small brass lamp that was perched on the desk. The light blinded me in the night. It was so bright I had to cover my eyes. Tavington still kept his tight grip around my arm, as though to make sure that I couldn't run away, which seemed like a good idea. If I were free from his grip, I'd be out of that door before they even noticed I was gone.

"Well?" The Warlord asked. His arms were now crossed in front of him, and he was expecting an answer. "Would you like to fill me in on what has just happened?" He never took his eyes away from Tavingtons. I still don't know whether he has seen me yet.

There was no reply from Tavington. What was he doing? Was he trying to see how far he could push the General? Not a good time to do this, Tavington, I thought. But still there came no answer.

"It's my fau…" I began to say before the Lord General rouse from his chair and shouted:

"TALK TAVINGTON!" The man in front of me I had always considered to be gentle and a man of words, not actions. But that man was not in front of me now, in his place stood a swelling figure head, who was scaring me near to tears. He wasn't even looking at me, however if he was I defiantly would have run out of the room screaming. I never thought someone could change like that.

Tavington loosened his hold of me, but would never let it go completely. He took a deep breath in and said in a calm voice, "There was some trouble with the colonials."

The Lord General looked as though he could burst. I don't think I had ever seem him this angry. His face was rapidly turning a deep shade of beetroot and I could swear that he was shaking. Cornwallis exploded, letting loose his anger and frustration at Tavington.

"We're at war Corneal! Of course there's going to be trouble with the bloody colonials! You'd better come up with a reasonable explanation for all of this or I'll have you flogged! Do you hear me!"

There were tears in my eyes now, he was something out of a nightmare. All I wanted to do was to get out of that room as quickly as I could. Tavington tensed up. Of course he would, the idea of being flogged would make anyone go weak at the knees.

"There was an escape attempt." Tavington looked at me but then back at Cornwallis. "Aided by Miss Martin." Once again his grip tightened, making me flinch.

"Corneal…" Cornwallis started, "The prisoners were under your guard. Are you telling me that Miss Martin managed to hoodwink the guard, sneak into your tent, get the key and then open the cell without the guard knowing!"

"Yes sir"

"Do you really expect me to believe that! It's impossible!" Cornwallis asked as though daring Tavington to answer back to him. I didn't know where to look, to the thunderous warlord or to the scowling Corneal. Seeing again that neither had any intention of making the next move, I felt my courage grow (although only slightly). I stepped forward and said,

"General, that was how it was. The Corneal dose not lie." My eyes were looking straight at the General. He tore his eyes away from Tavington and looked into mine, with a fire that could have matched those of hell itself. Before I knew it, the General raised his hand and struck me hard across the face.

The pain that followed, knocked any liking I had for the General out of me. As I fell of my feet, Tavington still didn't let go. I ended up on the floor, with Tavington hunched over me.

I couldn't see straight, I was dizzy! The light emitting from the brass lamp was burning my eyes even more than before. I let my head hit the floor, it was just too heavy to contend with. There was a heavy throbbing in the side of my face, and I felt the bitter sweet taste of my own blood where my lip had split. I looked up, trying to regain my vision. All I saw was Tavington looking down at me with what was a worried look on his face.

"How dare you lie to me!" Cornwallis spat over us. "Ever since you got here, you've been nothing but trouble! But now you've just crossed the line!"

"Sir…" Tavington began, but was cut of again by Cornwallis.

"No, Tavington. She will leave tomorrow as planned, I want nothing more to do with her!" Cornwallis stepped around from behind his desk and knelt down beside me. He took my face in his hands, forced me to look at him and said, "Now if I ever see you again in my camp, I won't be responsible for my actions. Do you understand me!"

I did nothing. I couldn't believe what had just happened. I could hear my heart beating in my ears and there were massive amounts of adrenaline pumping through my veins. I was staring at him with evident hatred, unable to take in all that he had thrown at me. His hands tightened around my jaw and he said again: "I said do you understand me!"

I nodded my head, my voice having disappeared. Cornwallis seeing this let go of my face. He stood up, and strode towards the door. Looking back at me, a crumpled heap on his floor, he smiled. His hand found its way to the door handle and he said: "The company leaves at noon. Make sure you're on it."

"Yes sir." I said in a voice as quiet as a mouse's. Cornwallis made to leave again, but this time, turned around again. "Oh, and Tavington…"

"Sir?" Tavington said, letting go of my arm and standing up straight, looking as though he was awaiting orders.

"Take Miss Martin down to the black room. I trust that you can do that, you are after all the so called "Butcher". With another smile, he turned the handle and departed from the room, leaving only the memory of his smile as proof he was there.

I looked up from the now closed door and to the window. The early morning sun was just starting to peep its way through the darkness. My focus rested on the British flag on parade, a truly magnificent site to behold, as was any national flag.

Tavington now sure that Cornwallis had gone, bent down and looked at me. Was he angry? Or was he sympathetic for me, the girl who had gotten mixed up in this war, in this new world, because she wouldn't stand for injustice? I looked up into his eyes and I saw the same worry that I had seen earlier.

"Oh stop it!" I said to him. Pushing away his hand that was once again around my arm. "Just be a good solider and take to me this Black Room".

"Fine." He said as he once again straightened up. He stepped back a step, and I pushed myself from the ground. I brushed down my dress and satisfied I looked up at him. Tavington was watching me closely, it was kind of unnerving.

"What!" I asked in reply to his stare.

"Lucy…"he began. He stepped towards me and placed his hand on my shoulder, my gaze followed his hand. This was strange. Too strange.

"No." I said stepping away from him. I knew what he was going to say. He was thinking about what I said earlier that night when I got the key. He was thinking about that kiss. My head was shaking, for I too was secretly thinking about that kiss.

He let out a long sigh and made towards the door. He opened it and looked out. There with their ears pressed to the door was Charles O'Hara and Lucy O'Shea. An unlikely couple in every respect, but they both wore guilty expressions, the kind you have when your caught with your hand in the cookie jar.

"We were just…" My dear friend Charles started.

"Save it." Tavington said, silencing Charles in an instant. "Miss Martin…" He said back at me. I looked from him to Charles and then to Lucy. I didn't know how much they heard, but it couldn't have been all of it. I walked towards Tavington with a new confidence. Determined not to portray my true emotions. I reached the door and looked back, glimpsing the British flag in the corner, a silent whiteness to what truly happened here tonight. And with that I closed the door not to look back on what had happened only moments before.


	30. Damp and Anger

**Chapter 30 - Damp and Anger**

**Hi to all my readers. I'm so sorry it has taken me this long to post this chapter and to get back writing. The truth is that I fell in love with this story again and found that I had to finish it off. So I hope that you all enjoy this chapter and the story as much as I do. Love Ronni. Xx**

We walked just as briskly as we did before. The manor was alive with curiosity, there were people poking their heads around every door. I was almost afraid to go out and meet them. This must have been what the gladiators felt like having to go out into the Roman coliseum. It was like being thrown to the lions. However, Tavington was with me. He would if need be protect me, or at least that's what I'm preying for.

He was walking just a pace or two in font of me. And as the noise from the hall grew to an all time peak, I made a grab at his arm. I was afraid, off what I wasn't sure. I didn't know whether Cornwallis had told the mob anything of what had happened, or whether he had pointed the finger directly at me and said "She is a traitor, do with her as you will!" Although I was uncertain after what had just happened.

My face still throbbed with a gripping pain. The blood around my cracked lip was drying and god knew what I must have looked like at this time in the morning not having slept yet.

Tavington looked down at me from his massive 6foot2 height. He didn't make to move away, he just nodded a curt nod and continued down the hallway and on to the staircase, with me following, like a frightened lamb at his side. It seemed almost natural to be there. He was a force to be reckoned with, but he was also showing pity on a frightened girl, who had lost her way.

It seemed that the whole manor fell silent as we emerged from the hallway. Every single pair of eyes were on us. I kept my eyes on the floor, knowing that if I looked up then I would fall head over heels down the stairs and land in a very unladylike heap on the floor bleeding and bruised.

Tavington led me down the stairs, much as he did the night of the Ball. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up on end at the mere thought of that life changing night. 'Don't think about it' I told myself. 'You cant'. So I once again concentrated on the space in front of me.

Why was everyone looking at me? I was no doubt the subject of gossip amongst the other bystanders. But then it occurred to me. The people weren't looking just at me, they were looking at me and Tavington. Most of them knew my situation and here I was holding on to him like some frightened school girl. If I were in there shoes, that would certainly make delicious gossip.

I quickly let go my hold on Tavingtons arm. There was no way that I could let people think that about me and the man at my side. For all I was concerned he could be just any other soldier taking me to this so called "Black Room". God only knows what awaits there!

Tavington didn't stop or even look back at me when I took away my arm. He just continued on rout to wherever it was he was taking me. I wouldn't be surprised if Cornwallis has told him to take me to the prison! That the "Black Room" was only for a formality.

Down the big staircase and towards the front door we went. Tavington stopped suddenly and briskly turned around to face me. This time I saw him, and stopped so that I didn't crash into his chest. I looked up to him, but he was scanning the balcony and stairs, obviously looking for someone. Not finding them he let out an aggravated huff.

He grabbed my arm quickly and made another grab for the door, pulling it open with one swift pull. In one quick movement we were out through the heavy doors and the cool early morning breeze whipped at my face. As cold and fresh a diving into freezing cold water. There was no sign of the sun yet, it was still early.

"Stop it!" someone yelled to the left of us. When I looked I saw a bloodied colonial being pushed in to the small wooden cage along with only a few of the others. The man being pushed by the British was the familiar John Billings, although I had to look closely in the light.

The British fleet were all around. The majority of them were by the cage, after closing the door for Billings. But there were some scattered around the courtyard, leaning over the stone bodies of the fallen militia men. There were many in the cage and little bodies, only some had died at my hand.

"Come" Tavington said to me, having stopped to take in all around me. It was a slight relief seeing the nearly full cage. Not all of the men had died, they were still prisoners, but they were alive all the same. Tavington looked to one of the soldiers guarding the cage and said to him, "These men are to be hung at noon tomorrow, one at a time until they give up the name of their leader. I'm going to catch this ghost…it ends tomorrow".

The guard looked at him as though in shock, these men were still men after all. Men who had done nothing wrong, were they now to die because of my actions? I kept silent, already in enough trouble. Tavington pulled at my arm, making me continue walking.

I had no idea where we were going, where or what the "Black room" is. I had expected it to be in the house somewhere, but it wasn't. We continued to walk through the court yard, my eyes never leaving the cage.

"Lucy!" It was Billings shouting at me, I recognised his voice. I looked at him, his face white with shock and red with the drying blood around his nose. He obviously had put up a fight when they tried to re-capture him. His eyes were pleading, but what could I do about it, I was a prisoner myself. But Mr Billings continued, "It's alright Lucy. It will all be alright! Don't you touch her Tavington! Don't you lay a finger on her!" But he was silenced by one of the British guards standing on the outside of the cage.

Tavington pulled sharply to the right, changing direction. When I tore my eyes away from the cage, I saw where it was I was going. In the darkness, the steps leading down into the stone room where I was taken the first night I arrived, looked more frightening now than ever. This was the room where Tavington had beaten me, this was the room that I thought I might die in, the room where Charles had first rescued me. And this was the so called "Black Room".

"No!" I screamed, there was no way that I was going back down into that room without a fight. Pulling against his arm only seemed to tighten his grip. We descended the steps one at a time, me still trying to break free, "Tavington no" I said again, I could hear my voice starting to break and the tears welling up in my eyes. There was no response from Tavington.

"You don't have to do this" still no reaction, he only pulled harder. "Please…William please don't do this." This was the closest to begging I had ever come, but even my finest attempts were having no effect on the stone-hearted monster before me. My face tightened as I became overwhelmed.

He stopped at the bottom of the steps and raised his hand to the shelf to the right of me. There he found the key to the door. This was my chance, as he was fiddling with the door, his grip slackened. I turned on my heel and took the steps two at a time.

"Oh no you don't" he said from behind me. I must have only gotten up two or three steps, for as soon as I had started running, I felt his arms around my waist lifting me off me feet. I did the only thing I could, kick and scream as much and as hard as I could.

"Stop kicking me!" Tavington shouted at me, after my feet found contact with his shin.

"Then let me go!" I shouted back at him. We managed to get down the few steps that I had travelled up. The door was open and I was manhandled into the "Black Room".

"William, please" I begged him once again. "If I mean anything to you then please stop." The salty tears were running down my cheeks in wild and rapid torrents. I could barely breath with Tavington holding me so tight around my waist. My back was to him, so I couldn't see the expression his harsh face wore.

There was no light around us within the room and as Tavington struggled to shut the door, with me squirming in his grasp like a fish out of water struggling to get back to water. Tavington once again seemed to shut the door on my freedom, my hope and my faith in all things good and I was once again I was enveloped in darkness.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He didn't let go of me. I couldn't see a thing. All that I could hear was my own heart beat drumming heavily in my ears.

"William…" I begged, hoping that I could gage a reaction from him, that I could appeal to his better nature. "William please, you don't have to do this." My body began to shake as the hysterics took over me. I was in this room again! This time Charles O'Hara wouldn't be coming to my rescue.

Tavington took two or three more steps into the room and put me down, on what appeared to be a wooden chair. My hands flew to my face, I didn't want him to see me crying, again, even in the darkness. He turned and walked back towards the door, leaning around and through the door, he grabbed something.

The door shut suddenly and I was in complete darkness, waiting for him to make the next move. I heard Tavingtons foot steps pacing towards me. He stopped sharply and took a deep breath in, before saying:

"Nothings going to happen to you Lucy, I promised you didn't I?" As he finished he struck a match, illuminating his face for a moment. There was a table to the side of me, with a lamp perched on it. Tavington tired and worn out lowered himself slowly on to the chair opposite me. He placed his elbows on the table and cupped his face in his hands. The evening, it appeared had got the better of him.

I let his words sink into me, and slowly the need to cry evaporated. I was confused, sad and lonely sat here in this room. But soon I started to see through that and for once, only for a brief second, saw in the place of the dreaded "Butcher" a vulnerable man who was probably just as confused and scared as I was.

I couldn't tell if he was sleeping or not, for he didn't move or make any sound. So I sat there. I sat there patiently, waiting and watching him. Watching for any sign of what it was that I was supposed to do.

After an age I whispered, "William?" His eyes fluttered open and he looked up at me, looking straight into my eyes. He had not been sleeping, but closing his eyes so that he could reflect and contemplate whatever it was that was picking at his brain more effectively.

"Miss Martin," he replied drowsily, "Why did you do it?" Taken back by what he had said I felt so unprepared by his question. But he continued, not allowing me to answer his question, "Why do you continually make life difficult for yourself? Why could you not have just left the prisoners well alone?"

He let out a long sigh and covered his face again in the palms of his hands. I didn't know what to say. I didn't have an answer to my behaviour. Practically all the things that had happened to me over the last few months I certainly had not asked for, but they had happened all the same. And now, my fathers men were dead, dying or waiting for to be hung! It suddenly seemed as though the bottom had fallen out of my stomach. I hated reflecting and reminiscing, it only brought back horrible or painful memories.

"Well I certainly didn't ask for all that has happened Tavington, you know that!" I shouted at him. Feeling angry at the way he implied that all of this was my own doing.

"Please Miss Martin, don't shout, my head is hurting enough at the moment without you adding to it." he replied from somewhere beneath his hands.

"Fine," I added, crossing my arms across my chest, "I'll just sit here and not say another word to you, will that make you happy?"

"Now I cant talk to you when you behave like this," Tavington said once again lifting his head so that he was looking right at me, "God, you have to make everything difficult. It's difficult just talking to you!"

"Well I wont bother in the future then, shall I?" I said spitting at him. God he was such an insufferable man! Looking at Tavington I saw his face tighten as though he had just swallowed something horrible. "I don't know why I'm even going to the effort of speaking right now, after all I'll be out of your hair by tomorrow noon. You can go back to being your own vial self again."

At that Tavington stood up quickly from his chair and banged his hands down on the table in a menacing way. "Enough of this!" He shouted, looking right at me. I had the sudden urge to go and hide behind something, but I had had enough as well. Enough of being treated like something that could be pushed around and stepped on anytime any man wanted. If these months had done anything to me, it had made me a stronger person.

"I cant believe I even considered having any feelings for you!" I started, "You are the most awful man I have ever met, and believe me Wilkinson compared to you is a pussy cat! And about the colonials, I just happen to know them personally and know that if I set them free, they could go back to my father and push you out of South Carolina once and for all!"

I hadn't realised it, but as I was shouting I too had risen from my seat and was also standing with my hands pressed on the table, mirroring Tavingtons posture, and my face only a matter of inches away from his. I looked at this and immediately shrunk back a few steps.

I suddenly felt like a school girl who had overstepped the boundary with their teacher. I couldn't look him in the face, once again I found I was ashamed of my very actions.

Tavington seemed to deflate as well. He straightened up and said, resuming his authority posture, "Thank you Madam. I shall not bother you again." And with that said he turned around and left, walking to the door.

Before I could stop myself I said, "William?" in a small voice that would rival a door mouse. He turned around slowly and looked me in the eyes, the ice that had melted earlier was now back. I timidly walked around the table, straight up to him and said "Thank you and sorry" as I kissed him on the cheek. I pulled back. He was looking at me again so intently I thought I would melt.

He took a deep breath in and said "So am I Lucy" and with that he opened the door and left. The door closed and I was once again left alone.

Tavingtons footsteps could be heard climbing the hard stone steps into the yard. His voice, although distant could still be heard saying to one of the guards "I think I know who the ghost is," Fear swelled up inside of me, "Make sure she doesn't move I want a guard here until I come and get her later."

"Oh my God!" I whispered to myself. I had let slip that the colonial prisoners were to return to my father! Tavington already knew that the men were working for the "Ghost". And now there was no way that I could warn them, no way that I could tell them that he knew!

I pulled on the door, trying to pull the heavy iron door open, but it would not budge, Tavington must have locked it when he left! One quick glance towards the table showed me that the key had left with Tavington.

"Tavington!" I shouted, banging on the door, hopefully he hadn't moved too far and that he may be able to still hear me. "Tavington" I shouted again, making my throat hurt. It seemed no use. There was nobody there, apart from the guards who were clearly not interested in what I had to say, they were only interested in following their commanders orders.

The room was cold and the walls were wet. A shiver ran down my spine, making all the hairs on the back of my neck stand up on edge. I went and sat down, close to the burning oil lamp, drawing every last drop of heat from that. I sat there in the lonely room, knowing that I had let the colonial prisoners down, knowing that I had let my father down, and that once again I had let myself down. For once again other people would have to pay for my mistakes.

Angry and upset with myself I stood up, grabbed the chair that Tavington had been sitting on and threw it as hard as I could at the door. Watching the chair rip apart at its hinges brought me some comfort, I pretended it was Tavington. But I still had to let this anger out. I was going to explode if I didn't. This time, I grabbed the oil lamp, annoyed at the lack of heat that it was giving out, and threw it again, with all my might at the locked door. The glass shattered with a loud bang and:

"What's that noise?" A voice came from just above the steps. I stopped and listened, it didn't sound like Tavington. Maybe it was Charles. Maybe he could let me out! "Is there somebody down there?" The voice asked one of my guards.

"Sir, Corneal Tavington told us that we were to guard Miss Martin until he came back, he thinks she could be some connection to the "Ghost", Sir." The guard fell silent.

"Does he now?" asked the voice. "Well private, if that is the case, I would like to ask Miss Martin some questions" Nothing was happening, there didn't seem to be any movement, all the time fear was rising inside of me. "Stand aside private. Now or I shall personally see to it that you are flogged!" The voice said. The voice defiantly was not Charles'.

The sound of feet scuffling around followed. It was then only when I stood there, fixed to the spot, that I noticed the dank smell within that room. The damp smell that consumed you when adrenaline was pumping, when it was nearly chocking you. His footsteps could be heard advancing down the steps, one by one, slowly and rhythmically. The key in the lock began to turn and I suddenly realised I had a shard of thick glass held tightly in my hand that I had picked up from the floor. The door gave a shuddering creek and I saw him through the darkness. The guards had let him in!


	31. The Ghost Returns

-1**Chapter 31 - The Ghosts Return**

A/N: Okay guys, here's the next chapter. Hope you enjoy. Ronni xxx

"Lucy Martin," he began, "Now what have you been doing now?" He stood there fixed in the doorway, his mass silhouetted against the frame. It was impossible to see the look that he wore upon his face in the darkness. He stepped through the doorway, with something in his hand. He bent down, pulled a match from one of his pockets and struck it on the stone wall to the side of him. The match illuminated the room and in a sudden blast of light Captain Wilkinson stood before me.

"I have nothing to say to you, traitor!" I spat back at him, with evident hatred for the man. Every step closer he took towards me, my courage seemed to grow with it. I traced the outline of the shard of glass I held in my hand, salvaged from the smashed lamp on the floor.

"Well" He began, whilst lighting the lamp in his hand, "I think you had better start talking, because I have just finished speaking with Cornwallis and he is under the impression that your father; our dear patriot, could be the "Ghost". He stopped suddenly, smirking at me, almost as though he was waiting for me to react to his nearing presence.

"That's ridiculous," I started, "Wouldn't I know it if he was. Besides, as you well know, I haven't seen any of my family for months." Turning away from Wilkinson I found the remaining chair and sat on it whilst crossing my arms across my chest and looking up at him, glass still in my hand. I took a deep breath in and said, "Are you or are you not supposed to be asking me some questions Captain? Lets make this quick, for neither of us are getting any younger."

At that Wilkinson let out a light chuckle "No, Lucy, we're not. How old must you be now? Eighteen, Nineteen perhaps?"

I looked up at him filled with an anger that I wasn't familiar with, wanting to slap the amused expression off his face. "Captain Wilkinson," I began, "You shall address me as Miss Martin while I am here and if we should ever meet again in the future you shall still address me in that manor." I looked right into the Captains eyes and said, "Also, it is nothing to do with you how old I happen to be. You shall still uphold the same formalities whether I be 18 or 118!"

I pursed my lips and looking into his face, waiting for his reaction, "As you wish," He began, and after a slight pause added "Miss Martin." He let out another small chuckle and smugly said "Although I would have thought that we knew each other well enough to skip these little formalities"

Looking scandalised and once again feeling the anger rise in my throat I said "I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Captain"

"Oh I'm sure you do, Lucy." He replied in a voice more like a growl than anything else.

Unable to control what I felt at that moment I said smugly "You think you're a gentleman, but your not. Your nothing but a animal who forces himself on all of those around you, who takes what is not his with no thought for the consequences," I could feel my voice starting to crack, my eyes dry. "You should be shot! You disgust me, you are the most vial person I have ever met. You took from me the one thing, the one thing that I could never get back! I don't know a gentleman who would do that!"

Wilkinson looked down at me in the flickering light, fixed a smirk on his face and said, "But Lucy, I didn't take anything that you were not willing to give…"

Feeling the glass shard in my hand where it had cut into me, the warm blood running down my wrist. There was a fire in my blood and before I knew it, I raised it up and ran at him. Unable to control myself, I swung my bleeding hand and struck him. The glass pierced his skin as easily as if sliding it through water.

"ARHHH" He shouted. Warm blood spurting from his arm. As I raised my hand to strike him again, he caught hold of me and pushed me backwards. I hit the wall and the glass fell from my hand. Dazed slightly after hitting my head, I could feel my senses slipping away from me.

"You little Bitch!" He shouted at me, cradling his slashed arm. I had not cut deep, but deep enough for it to leave a scar. I shook my head, coming back into my own body. I felt the back of my head with my hands and felt a little blood. I had cut him, he had cut me in return.

Wilkinson raised his eyes away from his bleeding arm and looked at me. "I should teach you a lesson for doing that to me." He snarled.

"There is no lesson that I would want to learn from you." I said, slowly picking myself up from the floor. I still didn't feel entirely myself and felt like id just been hit in the back of the head by a cricket bat. I leant against the wall, supporting myself and then moved across the room towards the upturned chair that I had been sitting on. Turning it over I sat down gingerly as though nothing had happened.

"That's going to need stitches!" Complained Wilkinson.

"Oh stop moaning! Your worse than my little sisters," I said to him, no sympathy in my voice at all. "Even they don't complain as much as you do. Besides its only a little scratch! And it's a clean cut, so it'll heal in no time." I didn't even know why I was defending myself. I was glad that I had hurt him.

"Yes that's a huge comfort to me Lucy" he said venomously. He gasped as he inspected the wound, it looked very tender. Through gritted teeth he breathed heavily and got over the pain. In all fairness to him, he did have a good way of handling pain, all men in the army did as a rule. "Now what's all this I hear of your father being the one and only "Ghost"." He asked smiling.

"As I told you, I don't know anything about it." I replied. Not looking at him, for I'm sure that he could see my lies if I did. He didn't look very convinced at my statement so I continued, "Wilkinson you know very well that I have not had any contact with my family for months now, so how am I supposed to know exactly what it is they are up too. I don't even know if any of them are alive." I could hear my voice cracking at this statement. It was the truth. All I knew was that my father and Gabrielle were alive and training the militia, and that I only knew from Mr Billings. I didn't know what had happened to any of my younger brothers and sisters, or of my Aunt Charlotte.

Wilkinson leant back against the damp wall behind him, looking relaxed and calm. A smirk came across his face as he said unexpectedly, "You know Lucy, you have always been a tease." I could hear his sadistic smile in that statement.

I nearly chocked once I registered what it was that he had said. What was he talking about? However he continued before I had a chance to reply to him, "Lucy, you and me both know that you have been playing games with men for many years now. Were you 15 years old when I asked you to marry me? But you said no then. And then there was Peter Cuppin, who was so sure that you would say yes, but surprise there, you said no again. And then there was John Porter, our skilled, colonial doctor. Now for some reason you said yes to Mr Porter. And then since you've been here, you've played your little games again. This time with Major Borden and O'Hara and the Corneal and even on times with me."

What can somebody say to that I contemplated. What was he saying, what did he mean? I looked away, unsure of what he wanted me to say. "What do you mean by all of that Wilkinson?" I asked him, "What are you trying to get at?"

But Wilkinson shrugged it off as though he had not heard me. My head gave a particularly nasty throb, and as I put my hand to it I felt the dried blood caked in my blonde hair. It would only be another couple of hours before I could have a bath and a proper sleep when I travel to Washington with the other women. My hair was dirty and I felt grubby all over, you wouldn't have thought that I was a well bread lady. At least when I'm in Washington I would be clean, there I would be safe and away from the war! At noon I would be leaving, William had promised.

"I don't mean anything by it Lucy," he said smugly, still leaning against the damp wall. "I just don't even think you realise what you are doing sometimes when it comes to men in general," I looked at him, disgusted by his mere appearance. "That's why I took matters into my own hands, you clearly don't know what it is that you want." Then he fell silent. He just looked intently at me, expecting some form of response.

It took a while for what he had just said to sink in. "As I said Wilkinson," I began folding my arms in my lap. "You disgust me. Even if I don't always know what it is I am doing when it comes to male company, I do however know that I made the smartest decision of my life not to accept your proposal to me."

A feeling stirred in my mind. Something that I had never felt before. I wanted to see Wilkinson dead for what he had done to me. Being now in the same room as his, brought back all the horrid memories of the night of the ball. I wanted him to suffer, suffer a fraction of what he had made me suffer. I wanted to see him cower in the dark, too afraid to venture outwards into the world. And what was worse than anything, what made me almost ashamed to be feeling these feelings, is that I wanted to be the one to see the life drain from his blue eyes. I wanted to be the one who killed him.

Not waiting for him to reply to what I just ranted, I pushed myself up from my chair, and walked right up to Wilkinson. Catching the glare in his eyes, I stood facing him directly, only inches apart. And I leaned into his shoulder so that I was next to his ear. I whispered to him chilling words that I never thought I would utter.

"That was the best decision I ever made," He didn't move a muscle, listening hard to my whispers, "And here is the next best: the next time I see you Wilkinson, I am going to kill you." His whole body stiffened at this, all of his muscles tensed, but I ignored it and carried on. "I am going to first break you spirit, and then break your body. I am going to look down at you and see what it feels like to break a person, to make them realise what it feels like to be their victim."

I could feel the warmth from his cheek on my own. "Make you feel how you made me feel." And with that I pulled away and lightly kissed him on the cheek in what I hoped was a very intimidating manor. Once again I felt his whole body stiffen as he absorbed what I had just said to him. The worst part, was that I was dead serious. I would, when the time comes, be able to kill this man.

Wilkinson took a deep breath in and said with just as much ambition, "Is that so, my dear Miss Martin?" And just as quickly as he had said that, he grabbed hold of my two arms, swung me around and I felt my head collide with the damp wall that he had been leaning against. All of a sudden the world went black and I could see no more as I slumped in to a heap on the stone floor, unconscious.

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As I blinked back into consciousness, a searing pain pounded in my head. It felt as though somebody was stamping repeatedly on me. I felt the cold hard stone of the floor against my cheek and remembered how it was that I got there. I opened my eyes once again, and I saw the beams of bright light radiating from the open door, warming my face gently against the cold stone. I looked around, my eyes out of focus and saw that I was alone.

The smell of the damp walls was enough to make me choke. An engulfing smell that wasn't overly horrid, but like a smell that gripped you, making you always aware of its presence. The taste of dried blood hung in my mouth, reminding me of my split lip. I could feel a pulse in my cheek and to even twitch was agony. My senses seemed heightened in the cold stone room. I was a ware of everything, even the steady hustling that was happening in the court yard above me.

All of a sudden it was Charles' voice that boomed above, shouting "Release the prisoners!" The steady scuffle quickened as I heard many more feet moving about. A sigh of relief escaped me, the prisoners were going free. They were being released. It made me realise that maybe, last nights efforts were not in vein. I could here voices conversing, and horses moving about. Then just as suddenly as I heard Charles' voice, I heard Corneal Tavington himself.

"You!", He began, "So you're the Ghost are you?" The meaning of those words quickly dawned on me. My father had come to rescue his men! Tavington however continued, "I remember you, on that farm, with that stupid little boy!" Tavingtons suspicions were correct. I was the daughter of the dreaded Ghost. "Did he die? Hmmm?" Tavington said in a quieter voice. Chills ran down my spine and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up on end. Tavington knew that Thomas was dead. He knew that, he killed him.

If it was indeed my father, that would be the one thing that would have sparked the terrible anger within him. However he remained quiet. It was Tavington who spoke next in a louder voice.

"Bring her up!" He shouted at two of the guards who were guarding my keep. Quickly I heard their rushing footsteps on the stone steps. And the barged in through the half open door. Looking around, the saw me, our eyes met from the floor. There were two of them both making the way towards me. Abandoning their rifles against the wall, they both made to life me up from the floor. One under each arm. There was no way that I was going to make this easy for them.

I was yanked roughly from the floor by these two soldiers and dragged towards the door and up the stairs with my face bloodied and bruised from the previous nights events. The bright noon sunlight stung my eyes at first. I was dragged a few paces until we stopped suddenly. I saw his boots in front of me, next to him Tavingtons.

"Now don't be rude Lucy," Tavington began, taking a step closer to me. "Say Hello to your father!" And with that his hand grasped hold of my dirty hair and pulled my head up straight so that I was looking directly at my fathers shocked face.

"Father!" I gasped, tears wetting my eyes. That was the moment that I saw utter sympathy in his eyes. That was the moment and the look that I would never forget. I looked away, ashamed of myself. I was ashamed of all that I had done and all that had happened to me. I couldn't ask him to understand and to accept me back into his family. I was an embarrassment and I could not allow for my family to suffer because of me. I was better off on my own.

"Take her to the coach" Tavington said to the two guards as he let go of my head. I let my head drop to the floor. Once again the guards started walking faster than I was, so it looked as though I was yanked off my feet. As we turned away I heard my fathers voice, the first time that I had heard it in months. He was quietly but deadly warning Tavington.

"Before this war is over," he said in tone that sent chills rushing through me. "I am going to kill you."

Tavington unsheathed his long sword and said in a icy voice that matched my father, "Why wait." As though daring him to actually do it!

"Soon." My father replied. I looked up and saw Emily O'Hara and Lucy O'Shea standing outside the coach looking directly at me. Only this time, with no sympathy in their eyes. I looked round one final time and saw my father and his men mounting their waiting horses. Gabrielle was riding on one of them and he was looking right at me. A pained look in his eyes.

"Just wait their Gabrielle. Leave me be." I whispered to myself in the hope that he could hear me. The last time that someone in our family tired to intervene they were shot. He now knew that I was alive if not well. His eyes did not leave mine until the gates to the camp were closed and I could see him no more. I heard voices on the other side of the gate, and then followed by the sound of a dozen horses riding away.

"Come Lucy." Emily O'Hara said from behind me. I turned and saw them climbing into the coach. The two guards on either side of me suddenly let go and I slumped back to my normal height. Not needing to be told twice, I climbed into the carriage and sat on the opposite side to Lucy and Emily. I couldn't bring my eyes up to look at them. For I was sure that they would be wearing the same look of embarrassment as before.

Not soon after the carriage door was shut, it jolted into action followed by eight or nine members of the Green Dragoons as our guards. With one final look out of the window, I sat and stared at Tavington. And he stared right back at me. The look in his eyes was hard to describe. It was a mixture of relief, hatred and sadness. And that look, when looked at me through his icy cold eyes, was enough to chill me to the bone.

We didn't break the stare until the carriage had gone through the gates and they closed behind me. That was it, I thought to myself. That was the last time I would see the camp, the manor. That was the last time that I would see Richard Borden, the last time I would see Charles O'Hara and The Lord General Cornwallis and the last time that I would see William Tavington the man who inspired so many new emotions in me. I would however see Andrew Wilkinson again, I had promised him that I would. And I always kept my promises.

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It was Mr Billings who was the first to talk once the company of riders had slowed down to a comfortable pace. "Benjamin," He shouted trying to get their commanders attention. "Benjamin listen to me!"

There was no sign that Benjamin Martin, the commander of the colonial militia, the famous "Ghost" himself, had absorbed what it was that Mr Billings ad said. He kept his eyes straight ahead of him almost as though he was unwilling to listen to what was being said. It was however Gabrielle, Martins oldest son and fellow militia man that spoke next:

"Father! What are we going to do about Lucy? We have to go and get her! We cant leave her, not now that we know that she is alive!"

"Benjamin," Mr Billings tried again, almost pleading to him, "She done it for us. She tried to help us escape, but she was caught and punished for it. SHE DONE IT FOR US BENJAMIN!" He shouted, hoping that the "Ghost" would acknowledge it.

"Where was she going, Billings?" Asked Gabrielle, "Do you know?"

Mr Billings paused as though trying to remember. "She said that she was going to Washington with the other women at noon today."

"Did she say anything else? How was she?" Asked Gabrielle, Lucy's older brother.

"Yes," said Billings uncertain of whether or not to say what he knew. "She said that she didn't want us to tell you that she was there. She said that she was better off dead." At that Billings dropped his eyes.

"Why would she say that?" Asked Gabrielle, "Father! We have to do something. She must be in some trouble. We have to do something!"

It was after that Benjamin Martin did turn around and look at his son and colleagues. "Yes Gabrielle," He said, "We will do something. You didn't think that I was going to leave her. She is my daughter after all."

"Well what?" Asked Gabrielle, eager for answers. "What are you going to do? What are you planning?"

"We're going to stop the coach heading for Washington, and that's when we're going to get her. I promise you Gabrielle, I'm not going to loose any more of my family, whether they want to be lost or not."


	32. The Young Dragoon

-1**Chapter 32 - The Young Dragoon**

I gasped a sigh of relief when the coach was way out of sight of the manor. This was it. I had almost forgotten what freedom tasted like. I swayed with the rocking coach as it rolled over stones and other bumps in the tract. I could hear the different sounds of the forest that ran parallel to the road. I hadn't heard those sounds in such a long time and hearing them again, reminded me of my happy childhood.

My injuries and humility forgotten, I sat up from my hard seat and leaned out of the window. Just letting the cool air whip past my face was one of the most refreshing feelings I had ever experienced. It was as though every pore in my skin was opening wide and letting in the air. I had never felt this fresh and that feeling was heaven.

"Lucy!" A voice called from behind me. At fist I didn't hear it. I didn't want anything to interrupt this feeling. But the voice continued, "Lucy! Come down from there!" It was Lucy O'Shea, Major Borden's very Irish fiancé'.

I leant my head back into the carriage, and the two women looked at me as though they had never seen me before. You wouldn't have believed that it was only last evening that we were all sat down together eating dinner, the way that they were looking at me.

I stared straight at Lucy O'Shea and pointy said, "No." And leant back out of the window, enjoying the warm sun radiating against my face. The wind was rushing through my hair, separating each follicle and giving it a feeling of cool fire. I closed my eyes and just stood there, savouring every moment. The two women seemed to have given up trying to get me to sit back down. What did I care if I disgraced myself in front of them, I would hardly make delicious gossip at another of their balls. I had no intention of ever mixing with Emily O'Hara or Lucy O'Shea in their social circles. I was the daughter of a farmer, and that is the only social circle that I would ever be welcomed in.

Stopping suddenly and thinking about that, what would I do? The only plan that I had was to get out of that camp and manor. Now it was time to embrace my new freedom and decide what to do with the rest of my life. I could see myself on another plantation like the one that my father had owned. That was the only trade that I knew anything about.

All of those ideas that I had had only 10 months ago, all of those radical principles and images of a better world were gone. All that we could do, was instead of trying to change the world, just to try and survive in the world that we lived in. That moment I finally understood why my father had never agreed with any of those extremist books that I had read when I was younger. This was the only life that we had been given, and that we had to make the absolute most of it, for like Thomas' could be taken away from you in seconds. Family was the most important thing in the world and just trying to keep them safe and out of harms way was enough of a job for any person.

"And I wanted to give them away…" I whispered to myself not even realising that I had wanted to talk. It had finally clicked. Of course my family would embrace me back into their open loving arms no matter what I had been through. They were all that I had in the world. Suddenly a fire ignited inside of me, I was willing to fight for any member of my family, and to forgive them anything. I had already been torn away from them for over 9 months, there was no way that I was going to waste anymore time.

I was going to find my family no matter where they are and no matter what state they were in. After all I didn't even want to go to Washington. South Carolina was my home and always had been. This must have been what it felt like to finally see sense. The feeling overwhelmed me. How could I have ever wanted to give my family away?

I sat back down in my seat inside the carriage and looked at the other two women with a board smile on my face. They looked back at me, not sure of what to make of me. I probably looked crazed with my grin, but it did not falter. There were 9 members of the Green Dragoons surrounding the carriage for protection and all of them had pistols!

All I needed to do was to wait for the coach to slow down enough for me to jump out.

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"Right Men," said Gabrielle Martin the Corporal of the company, in a hushed tone. "Here comes the carriage." The few militia men that were placed under the young mans command, were knee deep in swampy mud and not making a sound of complaint about their predicament. There was the rest of the company divided, like the Corporals, under the command of either the French Major Jon' Velenue, or under the command of the Militia leader, the dreaded Ghost Benjamin Martin.

Velenue's men were hiding behind many trees which belonged to the forest that ran parallel to the dusty road. If anyone would have been seen by the approaching coach and its Dragoon guard, it would have been the French major in his coat of finely silken blue material. All of the other militia men were safely hidden away.

It was the militia commander who spoke next, hidden with his men in the tall grass reeds the other side of the road. His voice was heard by all of the cleverly hidden men. "Wait for my command!" He said with the voice of a man who has already seen to much blood shed. "And remember," He continued, "We only want to retrieve my daughter, none of the others are to die unnecessarily."

After that was said, all the men who were strategically surrounding the road fell as silent as the grave and waited for the advancing coach. The sound of the many horses approaching was making the ground vibrate and the noise echoed through the waiting men's chests. "This is it," Thought Benjamin Martin. "This is where I get my little girl back."

Martin felt the buzz of high amounts of adrenalin rushing through his body, as he pulled back the stopper off his pistol. He had sworn that he would never use it unless he had too, and besides he was running out of Thomas' toy soldiers to melt down into bullets. He would never fire his gun unless he had too, but he would make every single bullet count.

Martin watched the coach drawing every closer. His breathing unlike other men when put under pressure, slowed down and became sharp controlled breaths. His blue eyes focussed on the approaching carriage.

Benjamin Martin was an inspiration to the men of the colonial militia. He was a farmer, not a soldier and his men knew more than most that he was a man of reason and discussion rather than violence and war. He only fought in this war because he had wanted to keep his family safe. The rumours among the militia men were that he had only joined up after the death of his second son. That every day that he fought brought him another day closer to killing the one man that the militia leader had marked.

The men now knew that rumour to be true. For when the militia leader came to bargain with the British for the realise of some of his party, he had sworn to kill one man. He had sworn to kill Corneal William Tavington in front of all his men. And again his men knew better than most, that when Benjamin Martin promised something, there was no way that his promise would go unfulfilled. Corneal William Tavington had to fear Benjamin Martin.

His eyes, the eyes of a man who had seen too much war, were sharp and unblinking. He was completely focused on the task in hand. In ways, this farmer, was the perfect soldier. He stood and waited, hearing the sound of his own raging heart beat deep within his chest. The sound reminded Martin of a marching drum as the forces approached.

The coach was now only seconds away from where the militia were hiding, waiting to ambush them. The nine members of the Green Dragoons would surly put up a fight, and who knew who was hiding actually in the carriage with Lucy Martin. They were nearly in place. "So let the fight begin" whispered Martin to himself. With a deep breath in Martin shouted, "NOW!"

Led by Martin and Velenue militia men sprang from the forest and grass lands, and surrounded the coach before they even knew what had happened. The front dragoon was the first to draw his pistol and fire at the militia leaders, but just as a bullet rushed passed Martins ear, another shot was fired and the dragoon was lying dead on the dirt path, having fallen from his horse. Marti had not fired that shot, but a member of Gabrielle's rifle team. They were watching from within the forest, able to provide support for the others with their excellent aim.

Martin watched as the other dragoons, having just realised what had happened, fumbled with their pistols and tried to take aim. "None of you have to die!" Martin shouted at the dragoons. "Drop your pistols and you have my word that none will die."

None of the dragoons said anything, they seemed unsure of what to do. None of their cocked pistols were raised, were Martin continued talking, convinced that if any of them was going to shoot him, they would have done so already. "Do we have a deal?" Martin said. None of them answered.

"You," Martin said, pointing at one of the dragoons, "what say you?"

The dragoon looked around slowly at the others, before saying in a quiet voice, "Sir, our Captain is dead. None of us hold rank. We don't know what to do." Martin let out a breath. They had just shot the dragoons captain, so the others were without leadership. A small smile came across Martins face, as he was reminded of his son Thomas in this young dragoon who stood before him.

"Well I don't suppose any of you particularly want to die, do you" Martin asked the dragoon, but looked around to the others faces, seeing the same young inexperienced glaze across their faces.

"No Sir." Said the dragoon.

"What is your mission here today?" Asked Martin, again using the young dragoon as the parties spokesperson. The man did not speak, so Martin continued. "Alright", he said, "We are only here to retrieve one of the members of your party, which if I am not mistaken is headed for Washington".

The dragoon said nothing. "Gentlemen, I give you another chance. Lower your weapons, allow us to retrieve who it is we have come here for and you and the rest of your party may continue with your mission and carry on, unharmed to Washington."

Velenue stepped forward apparently annoyed at how long the whole thing was taking and said in a raised voice so that the dragoons could hear him, "Cornel, they are obviously not interested in reason. Lets just kill them all and be done with it" The French Major looked towards the dragoons frightened faces and saw them almost immediately throw their pistols to the floor, obviously choosing life over the French mans sword.

"Okay," Martin said, another smile swimming across his face, "Jon, if you will." The Major strode arrogantly past the dragoons and across to where the halted carriage stood. He opened the door slowly, and as soon as it was open wide enough, a small boot emerged from inside the carriage and found contact with the French mans face. Velenue was thrown backwards by the force of the small boot, and blood began to pour from his flared nostrils.

"LUCY!" Shouted a woman's voice from inside the carriage, "You've broken that poor mans nose!"

Martin smiled as he listened to the goings on within the carriage. "Oh SHUT UP!" Shouted his daughters voice, obviously having just about taken enough of the two women to last a life time. Velenue lifted his head from the ground, felt his bloodied nose with his gloved hand, and spat on to the floor beside him.

"Is that her Benjamin?" Velenue asked his commander. "She has your temper!"

"It most certainly is." The commander said.


	33. The Grave in The Forest

**Chapter 33 - The Grave In The Forest**

I was a good 10 inches shorted than my father, and this was even more apparent when he hugged me. It was one of those hugs that made you feel completely safe, knowing that you were embraced within your fathers protective arms. I hadn't felt this way in over nine months. Nine long moths it had been since Thomas had died and I didn't even know if he had a grave. I didn't know whether the rest of my brothers and sisters were still alive, I didn't know where they were or what they were doing. There was so many questions that I was dying to ask, and now, there was all the time in the world to ask them.

"So much for my cunning plan," I whispered. My father looked down at me with a questioning look, "I was planning to wait for the carriage to slow down enough so that I could jump, but you beat me too it!"

He let out a little chuckle, "So we did. Sorry for spoiling your cleverly devised plan. I'm sure that it took you hours to concoct." and again a small chuckle escaped from him.

Major Velenue, the bleeding French man was still sat on the floor. Only now he had moved away from the path and was leaning with his back against one of the many trees, with his head between his legs. No doubt trying to stop the bleeding. It looked as though I had broken his nose with my kicking exit from the carriage, and although I had already apologised several times, it did not seem enough. But my father did not seem at all fazed by my conduct. I had really misjudged him. Of course he would accept me for who I am no matter what I had been through. And his gripping hug only seemed to strengthen that thought.

The party of dragoons were still sat on their horses, all looking on patiently, waiting for their orders from the colonial militia leader. It was indeed a strange sight seeing these young solders looking for leadership from a man on the other side of the war, from the same man who they could soon be fighting in another battle. This was another reason why the militia men were inspired by Benjamin Martin. He showed these dragoons, even though they were fighting on opposite sides of this war, he showed them reason and the choice of what to do. Some would even go as far as to say that they had shown them kindness, for not every colonial leader would have shown them the mercy of not killing them on the spot, due to the colour of the coats.

Benjamin Martin and his team of militia men were also one of the only regiments who insisted on burying any man who had met their end by the hand of one of them. It was unfortunate that the dragoon captain had died, but he had done. This was another thing that Martin would have to prey forgiveness for.

John Billings was one of Benjamin's closest friends outside of this war. They had know each other for many years, and he was effectively Martins right hand man. His son Gabrielle had been made a Corporal, for making him a militia hand would have been an insult to his status as professional soldier. Gabrielle had after all spent two years in the regular army prior to his start in the militia. And then there was Major Jon Velenue. He was assigned to assist Martin in the recruiting and training of the militia men. But it was John Billings who would assist Martin amongst the men.

It was Mr Billings who was organising a few of the men to move the dead captain and to help dig him a grave by the side of the forest. It was true that one of the militia men was a reverend and so he was in the process of blessing the sight so that the man would be able to be buried there. It was always a sad sight though Benjamin. But in his mind, just to leave a man where he had died was a greater sin.

Two strong looking militia men started the task of digging the hole in which to lay the dead man. The priet steped aside and walked towards the body of the English Captain. He knelt down at his side and without a moment of thought, he drew out his hand and in one fluid motion, passed his hand over the captains face. As quickly as the captians eyes had opened, the priest had closed them shut. It took many long minutes for the grave to be finished and the priest stayed next to the body the whole time.

It was strange to look at the body. He had only been dead less that half an hour and he looked like a different man. All the colour had drained from his face so that he looked a deathly shade of grey. His eyes, now closed were sunken into his head. The priest folded the bodies arms so that they were laying across his chest and as he placed them down, he pulled from around the captains neck a gold chain with a small plate.

Looking at the small object in his hand, he raised up from beside the body and strode over towards the dragoons. Holding his hand out for one of them, he said as he dropped the chain into one of the soildures hands "Will you make sure that his family gets this please?"

The dragoons bowed their heads as a mark of respect as the man was lowered in to the grave and the reverend said his prayers. The dragoons wanted to help cover the grave, but it was one of the things that Martin had asked of them, to stay mounted on their horses. Mr Billings had previously collected up all of the dragoons pistols and they were now lying on the floor in a neat pile at the edge of the forest.

I looked around and breathed in the smell of free air. This all felt a little melodramatic and sentimental, but I had reason to want to savour this moment. I stepped away from my father and noticed that a small tear had escaped from his eye. I gave a gentle smile and saw him match it. "Father, how is everyone? Are they all safe?"

"Yes," Breathed Martin for what seemed like an age, "They're all safe. They're all staying with Charlotte, on her plantation."

"And Gabrielle?" I looked at my father, almost fearing the worst for I had not seen him since he and my father met the militia at the British Camp. Could something have happened to my closest brother who was so eager to join this war.

My Father leaned in towards me with a smile on his face and just said, "Look," and he pointed towards the forest. I looked but could see nothing out of the ordinary, only the thick green mass. Then as I looked harder I noticed a little glimmer of metal and a quick flash of material and then I could make out as clearly as if I was stood next to him, the blonde head of my older brother!

A sigh of relief escaped from me. That was all that I had needed to know. My family were all safe, and now I joined them. I did not make to call Gabrielle out from his clever hiding place; there was obviously some reason as to why he had not revealed himself to me. I was not going to give away his secrete. He would come to me in time.

The next thought that came in to my head was something that I knew exactly how to do. "Father," I began, "Allow me to deal with the other women and send them safely on their way." My father simply smiled at me again and did not stop me when I turned away from him. I walked briskly towards the carriage, where the door still stood open from where I had last stepped.

"Ladies," I said peering back into the carriage at the two frightened looking women. "As you have probably guessed, I won't be accompanying you to Washington. I am going to go with the militia until I can find my family." The two women seemed unaware that I had already found my family in the shape of this bedraggled regiment, and for their safety I wasn't going to enlighten them to the fact.

"You are being very foolish Lucy." said Emily O'Hara with a stern motherly tone.

"Indeed you are," Added Lucy O'Shea. "You are putting your own safety at risk by leaving us. Who knows what could happen to you!"

"Yes, as that may be. But I have made my choice. You are safe to carry on to Washington without me. You will meet no more resistance from the militia; you have their commander's word on that." The two women just stared at me, not sure of what to make of it. I really had given them no option, just stated what was going to happen. I turned and looked back towards my father and saw him addressing the dragoons. It was nearly time for the carriage to move on.

"Ladies," I sneered, "Always a pleasure." And I shut the carriage door, shutting those two ladies out of my life once and for all! True they had both been very kind to me at one point, but they were also so patronizing and so judgmental at everything that I did. "No," I thought, "I am better off without them."

As I looked at the scene in front of me I saw that the grave of the English Captain was covered over, and one of the men had made a small wooden cross out of sticks to use as a head stone. Who knew how long that grave would be there. The cross would more than probably be trampled by something or someone, and many would maybe not see the grave in the forest.

The French Major, Jon Velenue had steadied himself onto his feet, he looked as though he was going to be sick. But at least the bleeding had stopped. His pale blue silk jacket, which showed his national colours, could now easily have been mistaken for one of the British coats as it was well stained with scarlet blood. Seeing this I once again had sudden need to apologise. I dint know whether he would have a spare jacket or not, I wasn't sure of anything anymore.

"So you will carry on to Washington and then return to the camp." My Father almost shouted at the group of dragoons. "You have my word that you shall meet no more resistance on your way, at least not from the militia under my command." It was hard to tell whether the dragoons were taking any of what my father said in as I couldn't see their faces. It was strange to realize just how similar my father and I were.

Martin turned back towards his own men and said, "Disarm the pistols and give them back," He now turned towards me and said "We don't want to be accused of stealing any of the Crowns property now, do we." I smiled at this. Was I technically the Crowns property? The thought was ridicules, but I wouldn't put anything passed old Cornwallis himself. He had been the biggest surprise of all the British officers that I had met. It was scary to think just how quickly an individual could change.

My Billings acting on my fathers orders started disarming the pistols. He was quickly joined by the French Major who then began handing the pistols back to the dragoons. Each muttered a word of thanks as Velenue reunited them with their primary weapons. The rest of the militia were slowly filing back into the forest and quickly disappearing from sight. The militia were all in plain clothes (all apart from Velenue) so that made focusing on them were made all the more difficult.

It was only then that I took note of the clothes that I was in, still dressed from the night before in just my petticoat with a British red military jacket over the top, I must have looked a sight. My hair was still caked with dried blood and grime so the blonde locks were hard to see. My face still stung and my nose, like Velenue's gave a particularly nasty throb as I remembered the state that I was in when I was manhandled out of the underground room at the camp. That whole night seemed like such a long time ago, so much had happened since then.

There was now only my father, Velenue, Mr Billings and myself that stood with the dragoons, the rest of the company had disappeared! Striding over towards the other militia an idea stung inside my head. Before another moments thought I had marched over to the one dragoon who had been used as the group's speaker, pulled up and grabbed his jacket lapel. I tugged down so that he was forced into a stooped over position. He looked alarmed, although did not make to pull back against me.

"Deliver this message to Captain Wilkinson when you get back to the camp," I said so that only that dragoon could hear. "Tell him that Lucy Martin is with the Ghost and that she always keeps her promises." A sneer formed on my face. "Will you tell him that for me?" I asked the dragoon. He nodded his head quickly and I released his jacket. The man straightened back up and repositioned himself on his horse. He turned once again towards my father, and said in a small voice:

"Thank you Corneal. Thank you for your kindness."

"That's not a problem" replied Martin. "Now you follow this road straight until you reach Pembroke, then you just head towards Washington. You got that?" he said.

"Yes Sir."

"Well carry on then private. Safe journey." And with that my father turned away and headed towards the forest edge with Billings and Velenue. "Are you coming Lucy?" He asked, turning his head back to look at me, still stood next to the dragoon.

This was it. This was the very moment that I had been waiting for. The reality of it had just hit me like a ton of bricks! This was the moment that I was able to truly walk away from the British as a free woman. It was so easy! Nine months of being away from my family and it was as easy as just walking out of a carriage and into my fathers outstretched arms. All those months of secretly plotting my escape were now wasted! I certainly hadn't planed this moment to be like this.

As happy as I was to be reunited back with my family, I realised that there were individuals who I had come to care for when I was a prisoner at the British camp. There were those very select few who had made the time almost bearable. There were those who had made me laugh and there was one individual who I had not been able to say goodbye too. The last nine months had been such a rollercoaster of emotions that I certainly did not think that I would almost miss this one man. Corneal William Tavington had been kind to me in a way that I would never forget. He was the same man who had caused me some of the saddest times in my life, but here I was, wishing that I could have just another ten minutes with him.

I then realised what it was that I could do. I once again looked up at the dragoon mounted before me. This would be the perfect way. I felt my shoulders go slack and I felt myself pulling my red jacket from my shoulders. This was his jacket. This was the jacket that he had given me all of those months ago, the same jacket that had kept me warm on countless occasions. "Will you do me another service?" I asked of the dragoon. He simply nodded again. "Will you also make sure that Corneal Tavington gets his jacket back. Tell him thank you from me."

The young dragoon nodded his head again in a curt fashion. He pulled at his quiet horse's reigns and the party began again to move. I walked over to my father who was now facing me fully. As I met him, his arm came around my shoulders in another fatherly hug. This is what I had missed. My father and I were never overly close. Not as close as we should have been. But now I would take this opportunity to change all of that.

As we watched the carriage out of sight, it was strange to think that the only proof that any of today's events had happened would only be the small grave of the Unknown Soldier at the edge of the forest.

Xxxx xxxx xxxxx xxxx xxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxx xxxxxxxx

**A/N: Just for you all to know, this is not the end of the story! Please review with new ideas!**


	34. Scarecrow Officers

**Chapter 34 - Scarecrow Officers**

"So how did you do it?" I asked my father, Benjamin Martin the Colonial Militia leader. I looked up to him as we walked side by side through the dense forest and saw the same feelings behind his eyes that were behind mine. I was so glad to be back, even though I had never been where it was that we were going. It was that sort of feeling.

"Do what?" Martin replied. He looked a little puzzled for the briefest moment but never taking his eyes of the uneven path that they were walking. There were many branches in our way so often we had to duck to walk under them. Walking in front of us was Mr John Billings, gun in hand and looking very important. There were around another eight members of the militia within my immediate sight, all of which also held their muskets in their outstretched hands. These men appeared to always be on guard, waiting for something bigger to happen and always ready for when it did.

"Convince Cornwallis to release your men." I said to him with a genuine interest. I myself had attempted to release the men from the confines of their wooden prison in the early hours of this very morning, and had failed miserably, resulting in many of the captured men being wounded. This fact would be one that I would just have to learn to live with, along with many other facts.

The French Major, Jon Velenue who was walking a couple of paces behind my father and I, gave a little snort of amusement. His pale blue silk coat was stained with a burgundy substance, and regretfully I knew exactly what that substance was. Velenue's face was slightly swollen and his nose and cheeks were bruising. I had only an hour beforehand managed to break the Majors nose when I had escaped from the horse drawn carriage that had delivered me from the British Camp.

Hearing Velenue, my father looked back at him over his shoulder. The two men looked at each other for a moment and Velenue's amused expression contagiously appeared on my fathers face. Without taking his eyes away from the Major, my father said to me, "Why don't you let Major Velenue here tell you the story?" Martin smiled a wide smile and quickened his pace slightly, allowing for the major to walk alongside me.

"Well," Venenue began with an air of the theatrical, as he draped his heavy arm across my shoulders. "It was all my idea you have to understand. It was a dangerous gamble to play with the British, who knew what may have happened if it had all gone wrong! And with Benjamin in the thick of the Camp as well! The thought of it now makes my bones shiver!"

I smiled at this man! It was as though he was telling a small child a thrilling bedtime story of adventure and thwarting danger. He was such a larger than life character, it was no wonder my father enjoyed his company! "I imagine it would!" I replied to him, visualising this man shivering. He continued.

"A few weeks ago, we snuck in to the Camp and where there was items being unloaded from one of the British ships, we pretended to be some of the crew. Benjamin, Gabrielle, myself and a few other men stole some of the British's uniforms. We then managed to blow up the boat! But that is a different story again.

"Using these acquired uniforms we were able to make scarecrows look like British officers. We then tied them to posts and placed them on top of a near-by hill, so that when Benjamin went to the Lord General, he would be able to show him his captured officers. And hence bargain their lives and freedom for that of the militia men!"

"Genius!" I proclaimed when Velenue stopped for breath.

"So you see my dear," Veleune however continued, "It still is a very dangerous plan, for when the British go to collect their captured officers, they are going to find nothing but a few well dressed scarecrows and they will know that it was Benjamin or "The Ghost" as he likes to call himself has indeed tricked them. I fear for your fathers safety indeed! It was a very perilous plan!"

I briefly wondered if this man had once been involved with the theatre, he was very good at story telling. But then the weight of their plan and the risks that these men had taken finally dawned on me. They now knew exactly who the "Ghost" was, they knew the faces of some of his men, and they now knew the connection between myself and them. This was indeed a very dangerous position to be in.

"Father," I asked the striding man in front of me, "Are we in danger?"

Benjamin Martin stopped walking and turned on the spot to face me, looking directly into my eyes. His expression was unreadable, who knew what he must have been thinking. He took a deep breath in and said in a stern commanding voice, "We are always in danger Lucy. Right at this moment, where we are taking you, you are not in any immediate danger."

I just stared at this man in front of me. He was the sort of man that you could look up to, who you always expected to make the right decisions. He was my father and I wasn't sure of this was how every daughter viewed their fathers and I had only just realised it.

"I do however fear, that now the British are aware of our true identities, and the connection between you and I, that your Aunt Charlotte and your brothers and sisters who are staying with her are now also in great danger." He stopped as though waiting to see a reaction in my face. So that was where my siblings were. At least they were safe up to now. My father continued, the Frenchman concentrating from behind us. "Our old friend Mr Wilkinson is now, I understand to be employed amongst the British?"

"Yes." I replied. Now I understood. He was the key to whether or not the rest of my family were kept safe.

"Well then you know that he is now the key to whether the rest of our family stay safe. He could reveal their identities and location to the British at any time now. I had hoped that as a friend to the family, that he would not. I had hoped that because of his little infatuation with you a few years back, that he would find it in his heart to be silent on the matter."

I looked up at my father and saw that he was trying to read the expressions that kept forming on my face. I had not told my father about anything that had happened when I was at the British camp, and I certainly wasn't going to start by telling him of mine and Captain Wilkinson's twisted relationship. "No father, he will tell them. He holds no store of his friendship to you. You cannot trust in that man at all."

"I see." Stopped my father. "That is what I had feared."

"There is another threat still. You may not believe this but there is another traitor in the British camp. Another man who could betray the location of our family. Another man who we can also not trust 

anymore. John Porter is employed at the camp as their doctor."

"Who is this John Porter?" Velenue asked from somewhere behind me.

"He was my fiancé'." I replied the French man, "Although rest assured that he no longer is. He made his thoughts towards me known just last night." And with that statement, I pointed a finger towards my bruised cheek. True the many bruises on my face were not alone from John Porter, but there was defiantly one. My father however got the picture straight away. A fire lit somewhere in the back of his eyes, and I knew that John Porter had to look out.

"He would betray us as well?" My father asked me.

"Yes." I replied again. It wasn't as painful talking about my failed engagement as I thought it was going to be.

"Then I am afraid that Charlotte and the other children are in more danger than I thought. Thankfully the British will not know about your escape for another day or two. So I think it safe to return to our camp for tonight. Although tomorrow we must move Charlotte and the others to a safer location."

And with that my father carried on walking. It was just me and the Frenchman left standing. "He is right you know." Came the voice of Velenue.

"Yes, I know. They must be moved straight away. For their own safety." And we carried on walking after my father.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx…………xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx…………….

Charles O'Hara, the second in command to the British army stood in front of the heavy oak door, composing himself for what he had to do. The Lord General Cornwallis would not be pleased when he found out, not pleased at all. But he had to tell him, there would certainly be hell to pay if he didn't. The Lord General was in the middle of a meeting with other British officers from around the country who had travelled especially to meet with him. But that meeting would have to be interrupted if there was any hope of re-capturing the militia.

Taking deep breaths in, O'Hara snuck another glance at the well dressed scarecrow in his arms. This was humiliating! They had been double crossed! O'Hara could feel all the blood in his body rushing to his head, as he flushed a maroon shade of embarrassment.

"Just calm down," He muttered to himself, "This isn't your fault. How were you to know that the "Ghost" was bluffing!"

"Who are you talking to?" Came a voice from down the hall way.

O'Hara recognised the icy drawl straight away. Just the man that he needed right now. "Tavington, I don't have time right now."

"No," He said in jest, "I can see that." Tavington walked closer towards O'Hara. He was a good foot taller than him. "Who's you friend?" He asked.

"Tavington," repeated O'Hara, "As I said I really don't have time at the moment. Don't you have a horse to tend to at all?"

Tavington gave a little bow, smirk apparent on his face and he turned and walked back down the corridor. O'Hara watched him until he turned out of the coridor. That man really was insuferable! He just had a habbit of turning up in all the wrong places making you feel even worse than you already did. It was as though he planed it!

O'Hara took a deep breath in, it was now or never. He gave a brisk knock on the Lord Generals door and not waiting for a reply he turned the door nob. Striding confidently into the circular room, all eyes on him and the scarecrow cluched in his arms. The Lord General looked confused. Taking another deep breath in Charles said in a shakey voice:

"Our captured Officers, my lord."

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The sun was just fading over the thick trees, plunging the colonials deeper into darkness. The burnt orange colour of the horizan could just be made out through the breaks in the trees. Benjamin Martin was sat on a log watching his son Gabriel and Daughter Lucy chatting eagerly beside the fire. It was as though they had never been apart. Seeing them together, reminded him of what it had been like before the war. He rememberd the three of them, plus Thomas, all sitting in the front room, in front of the fire once his younger children had gone to bed. Lucy had been reading one of her radical new age books, and thomas and gabriel had either been playing a game, or patiently painting Thomas' collection of tin soilders. The same tin soilders that Benjamin was slowly melting down and using as bullets to kill as many of the British officers as he could.

There was one tin soilder he was saving. He was saving it for one man only, the same man who had taken Thomas away from him 9 months ago. The one tin soilder Benjamin had clutched in his hand, had Willaim Tavingtons name on it.

Lucy Martin now had one of the colonial coats on over her peticoat, as she had given her British jacket back to the dragoons. Benjamin didn't ask why. He knew that Lucy would tell him what she wanted to in time. There were a few words that were playing on his mind. John Billings, once he had escaped from the British camp told Benjamin that Lucy had said that she didn't want to be found and that she was better off dead. Those words were playing on his mind indeed, as he sat there watching his two oldest children. Benjamin could see that Lucy had taken a beating, one more than one occasion and this maddened him more than you would know.

He could only guess what had happened to Lucy when she was in the British camp. But he would not push her to tell him. She would tell him if she wanted to. After all Benjamin never talked about what had happened in the previous war (apart from once to his wife and once to his son). It was something that he lived with every day that he was alive. Lucy would have to live with what she had seen in the camp, and it would probably haunt her for the rest of her life.

Both Lucy and Gabriel stood up from the fire and began to walk away.

"Where are you two going?" Asked Martin, not keen to let either of them out of his sight. If the last few months had taught him nothing, it was to value what he had, and at the moment all that he has was his family and militia men.

"Oh Gabriels just showing me where the stream is to wash." Replied Lucy. She was after all in dier need of a wash. He hair was caked and her face was grubby, even in the dying light.

"Stay with her Gabriel" Martin told his son. He did not want to risk her going off again. If she felt that she was better off dead, he did not want to give her the opportunity to run off or drown herself in the stream. Not the Martin honestly though she would.

He watched his two children disapear into the thick trees. The French Major came to sit next to him, he was now in one of the stolen British Jackets until his washed coat had dried.

"It's never easy, is it?" Said the major, looking at Martin with sympathetic eyes. Martin knew the horrible instances which Jon Velenue had lost his family. And here he was being re-united with a member of his. Martin did feel for the Major, but he had lost family as well. In that sense they understood each other. Jon had become a good friend to Martin over the last few months. He was completely over the top and Martin found him easy to talk to.

"What?" Replied Martin not quite sure what the Major was trying to say?

"Watching them grow up."

"No, it isnt." Replied Martin. He had already accepted that Gabriel was a young man with a good steady head on his shoulders. He was a tribute to his mother, he had her tempermant. Lucy on the other hand, he had last seen her as a head strong girl who didn't have a clue what life was like in the real world. And now he accepted that she had seen so much of what life shoudlnt be like, that she had grown into a strong independent woman. He could see in her eyes that she had experienced a hard few months and it had made her into different person. He would just have to accept that in time. All that was on his mind at the moment was Charlotte and his other children staying on the plantation miles away.


	35. The Space InBetween

**Chapter 35 – The Space In-between**

It was the best feeling in the world feeling the cold water of the stream splashing against my face. I didn't want to go too far into the stream as it would take forever for my clothes to dry and I would be cold in the night. My blonde hair was thick with muck and dried blood. There was a cut on the back of my head where I had been pushed into a wall, and that was sore as I tried to wet my hair. Gabriel on the request of my father had come with me to the stream. He looked very important and professional standing on the bank looking into the thick of the trees, pistol in his hand.

We had talked about everything. It had been so long since I had properly seen him. I had found out that when we had left the plantation that he and my father had gone to the Colonial camp. My father had been commissioned to train the Militia with my father's level of experience in warfare and that Gabriel had been assigned to him as a Corporal. I had found out that my younger brothers and sisters were safe with our Aunt Charlotte on her plantation, although they had to be moved from there as there were traitors in the British camp and my father feared for their lives.

I had also found out that my older brother Gabriel had gotten himself engaged to my good friend Anne in the town of Pembroke! The militia had been using the townsfolk to help them get supplies for the militia and that my brother had sought Anne out when he was there. I was very happy for them. Anne had constantly been asking after me every time the militia were in Pembroke. The next time they went I would be able to surprise her.

"Gabriel?" I asked from in the stream.

"Yes?" My brother replied turning to look at me. The clothes that I had on were soaked through, even though I had tried to keep them as dry as possible.

"Have you got any spare clothes in the camp that I could wear?" At that Gabriel went straight away to find some. He was good like that.

It felt so strange to be amongst my family again. I felt that I was just expected to turn back into a naive little girl and let my father and his men protect me. I had been in the British camp for 9 months and I had gotten through it on my own. I knew that when me and Gabriel joined the rest of the camp again, that I would go looking for a pistol of my own to have on me. After all I did have a promise to keep.

When Gabriel returned minutes later with an armful of clothes. He looked a bit uncomfortable! I laughed at his awkward expression. He took a deep breath in and said "All we have is men's clothes."

"That's alright, I didn't expect you to have another dress at the camp."

Gabriel laughed "No, I don't suppose you would have" It was good to hear him laugh. He had the pained look of someone who had seen too much war in such a little space of time and at such a young age. He always looked cheerful, but you could see a deep sadness behind his eyes. I could tell that he missed Thomas and our other brothers and sisters, as I did. But Gabriel was closer to Thomas 

than he was too me. He had also lost his best friend, Peter Cuppin at the beginning of this war. He was happy with Anne, but she would not replace his best friend or brother.

Knowing now that I had fresh clothes to change into, I let myself fall backwards into the stream. It was heaven letting the water consume me. My hair broke away from my head and floated free in the water. I pushed against the floor and came back up for breath. Water was dripping from my face, and I gave it a good rub. I would look a different person when I was clean. After another 5 minutes I said to my brother "Would you turn around please Gabriel, so that I can get changed?"

"Oh... yes" Replied Gabriel once again looking awkward. I gave a little chuckle.

I stepped out of the stream and finding the clothes left on the ground for me, I changed into them. It was so refreshing. I had a pair of men's breeches which I tied tighter with a belt. There was a white shirt on the floor and a red British jacket. There was something surprisingly comforting about putting that red coat on. They were very warm as well. I pulled on a pair of boots, which were slightly too big for me, but beggars can't be choosers. I would have to stuff them with something later.

"Okay Gabriel, I'm ready to go back now." Gabriel turned around to face me once again. Seeing my hair dripping down my back he pulled a leather piece out of his hair and allowed me to tie mine up with it. That made me warmer already.

"Okay." And with that we started walking back through the dark woods towards the camp. I left my petticoat on the floor by the stream, I didn't want it anymore.

"Gabriel?" I asked. Not waiting for a reply I carried on "I want you to find me a pistol and a knife."

He turned around, looking stunned. "Why do you want a pistol? Or a knife?"

"Gabriel..." I said looking into his eyes, "I have made a promise and I need to keep it. Plus if I'm going to be walking around in a British uniform, I might need to protect myself!"

Once we got back into the main camp, Gabriel went and found me what I had asked for. I put a holster on to my borrowed belt and placed the pistol in it. The short bladed knife that he gave me, I placed inside my boot. I went to sit by the fire once again, only this time there was a blanket waiting for me to try and get some sleep. Gabriel and my father looked at me, both surprised at the sight of me in a military uniform, with a gun holstered to my belt.

Gabriel said in a quiet voice so that only my father could hear, "Do you know what? One day they'll have women fighting in the army as well! I bet you any amount of money they will."

"You're on" replied our father.

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That same night in the warm of the British Manor House, the Lord General Cornwallis was sat having his dinner. He had only one thing on his mind and it was making him madder every second that he dwelled on it. He had been tricked, deceived and humiliated by that Colonial commander. Who did he think that he was, coming into their camp, making demands and then double crossing them! He was an officer! Meant to be a gentleman! How wrong he was about the colonial.

Cornwallis was eating, but he felt empty inside. All of his camp had seen that he was deceived. They were all probably laughing at him! And that thought infuriated him even more! There was only one thing to do for it! He had to make an example of that colonial, show everyone that they did not make a fool out of the Lord General! And just to think, he had had his daughter in the camp as a prisoner!

That moment there was a knock on his office door. Cornwallis knew who it was, he had sent for him especially. If there was one man who could get results, it was Tavington.

"Come..." called Cornwallis. He did not get up from his chair. The door slowly opened and Corneal Tavington stepped deliberately into the office, the spurs on his boots clinking with every step. He was a monster of a man. He was intimidating at the best of times, but as he stepped into the darkened office, which was only lit from the slow burning fire in the grate, he could see the icy blue shine from Tavingtons eyes. This made him even more fearful than normal.

Cornwallis smiled a twisted smile. He knew that Tavington was under his command. He was the perfect man for the job.

"My Lord?" Tavington asked. He had seen the scarecrow's in British uniforms earlier that day and had guessed that they had been deceived. He knew that they should have just killed the militia men when they had the chance. He had come face to face with the "Ghost" and he was inches away from killing him. One sharp swipe of his blade and it could have all been over. The "Ghost" was the bane of his existence, and he had a funny feeling what was to come.

"That man..." started Cornwallis, "INSULTS ME!!" he shouted banging his hand abruptly on the table in front of him. Tavington could see that the Lord General was angry, no, more than angry, he was fuming! However when the Corneal had wanted to kill him, he had been restrained.

"Rather good for a farmer with a pitch fork, wouldn't you say?" Tavington knew that Cornwallis didn't have much regard for the militia, he had said so many times before. And now the company he mocked had been the ones to surprise him the most.

Cornwallis was quiet, he knew that Tavington was testing him. He should say something back to him, but he unfortunately had to keep Tavington on his good side as he needs him to do something for him. The Lord General knew he had been a fool for ignoring the influence of the militia, they had proved a vital part to the colonial forces.

"I want him found, I want him killed." He said in a deathly calm whisper. Waiting for Tavigntons reaction. Cornwallis always wondered whether Tavington actually enjoyed doing what he did when he was gathering his reputation as the dreaded butcher!

After a minute Tavington said in an equal whisper "I'll find him for you," taking a step towards the Lord General, "But to do so, will require actions that your lordship termed...brutal?"

Cornwallis looked at the corneal in front of him and said, "What ever it takes." He wanted that man dead. No one would ever make a fool out of him again. He could see that Tavington was going to enjoy doing it.

Tavington took another breath and said "And you and I both know that I would never be able to return to England with honour,"

Cornwallis knew exactly what it was that Tavington was after. That was after all what the Lord General had been in countless meetings about that day. "You know the real value of this country after the war will be real estate..." Looking into the Corneal eyes, Cornwallis knew that he would loose half of his land, for Tavington demanded a price.

With a sneer that echoed through the dim room, Tavington said "Tell me about, Ohio."

The Lord General Cornwallis looked at the Corneal in front of him, the dreaded butcher. The deal was done.

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William Tavington, a man feared by many and greatly respected by his men was a fine leader. He knew what he wanted and would do almost anything to get it, in fact he had already done enough terrible things to earn himself a one way ticket into hell once he died. It was true that he had little mercy, although there was one person who he had shown mercy too. She was a scared little slip of a girl when he had first set eyes on her, but she straight away proved to be more than that. Lucy Martin had taken a shot at him when they were back on the Martin's plantation and then when being taken into hostage had broken one of his men jaws by kicking out of their grip.

She had been nothing to him to begin with, and now that she was gone he didn't know what she had meant to him. She was a constant pain in his side when she had been there at the British camp, always getting herself into situations. There were moments when he wanted to ring her neck, but again there were times when he just didn't know.

His mind flashed back to the kiss that they had shared the night before. He had felt a passion that he had not felt for a long time, not since his lover had been murdered 6 years ago.

When William Tavington was back in England, he was the son of a rich man. Well everyone presumed he was rich, but the truth was that his father was a drunk who gambled away any money that the family had. His father in a drunken rage had made a pass at the corneal lover, and she, repulsed had pushed him away. It was the ultimate price, for his father was used to getting his own way. She had lost her life for that, as Williams's father had beaten her to death when he couldn't have his own way.

William had found her in the morning, surrounded by her own cold blood in the manors sitting room. His father passed out in the chair in front of the fire, her blood spattered on his clothes, hands and face. He had sworn that he would never mention her name again and that he would never forgive his father. It was then that William Tavington realised what he was capable off. He had killed his father in cold blood with his bare hands, showing him the same mercy that his father had shown his lover. Like a monster lurking within him, he had done things that night that he had never though himself capable off.

It was this night that haunted William Tavington the most.

That day, William Tavington took all the money that his father had owned, and bought himself a commission as a major in the army. He was on a boat sailing for America the next day. Of course he had shined as a commander of men, and he soon earned himself a brutal reputation. Earning along with that his position as Corneal of the mounted green dragoons.

William had never planned to go back to England when the war was over, he didn't think that he could face being in the same place where she had died. It held too many horrible memories, memories that haunghted the corneal every night for the past 6 years.

However, walking away from the manor house in the coldness of the night, towards the tents of his men, he suddenly felt a feeling like karma. William Tavington stopped walking and took a deep breath, breathing in the coldness. He had made a promise to himself never to show mercy to anyone who crossed his path, for you never knew what they were capable off. Never to let anyone get too close to him for it only caused him heart ache. This was the reason why William Tavington was such a effective killing machine! He could see the bad in every person that he saw, never giving them the opportunity to show their true colours.

But somewhere, on the road to Washington, there was a young woman who had made him stop and think. Someone who inspired new emotions in him.

"Snap out off it Tavington." Major Borden said from behind him. William didn't even hear him walking up towards him. His mind was defiantly miles away! This was not good for a solider. "So what did Cornwallis want to see you about?"

"We have something to do, Borden" Said Tavington, looking towards the black horizon. He was a professional after all, if he showed any weakness his men would pick up on it. "Follow me."

Tavington and Major Borden walked briskly through the now damp grass towards the tent. Tavington knew exactly which one he wanted. Pushing his way through the many tents he found it, Borden walking quickly behind him. Tavington pulled the tent flap aside and stepped into the lamp-lit tent. His men went to stand up, a mark of respect expected by every officer.

"At ease" he said, hoping not to disturb too many of the slumbering men. He continued to walk to the end of the tent, and there he was, Captain Wilkins asleep in his cot.

"Wilkins!" Tavington shouted. The captain woke with a jilt! He was clearly not expecting to be woken up.

"Sir?" Replied Wilkins in a sleepy, half awake drawl.

"Lucy Martin," he began. Wilkins began to pay attention. "Her father?"

"Benjamin Martin?" Replied Wilkins, not sure what it was the Corneal wanted from him. He sat up in his cot, swinging his legs around so his feet were on the floor.

"He is the Ghost" Piped in Major Borden who was standing slightly behind the Corneal. Wilkins looked confused. He knew that this was a possibility, after all he had quizzed Lucy Martin about it the night before.

Tavington took an inpatient breath in, "What do you know about him?"

"Hell everything," Replied Wilkins, eager to please his intimidating Corneal. "I can tell you the size of his boots"

"Does he have family?" Said the Corneal, growing more impatient as the seconds passed. He really didn't like the Captain. "Where would he hide them?"

Wilkins looked suddenly uncomfortable. He had after all known the family for a long time, and even though he had his issues with Lucy Martin, he did not want to betray the rest of the "Ghosts" young family. Wilkins had heard of the Corneal reputation, who knew what he would do. But as Tavington gave him a glare with his icy, unforgiving eyes, Wilkins realised that he had a lot too prove to the Corneal. He knew that Tavington did not trust him.

Wilkins looked as though he was fighting an internal battle. But Tavington was growing inpatient. He continued to glare at the colonial, turned traitor in front of him, thinking of ways to punish him if he did not give him the information that he wanted. Wilkins's head on a spike flashed through his mind.

"His wife's sister," began Wilkins. He hoped that Tavington had an ounce of pity that he would show to Martins young family, "has a plantation. It's not far..."

That was all that Tavington needed to know. That land that Cornwallis had promised, was his.


	36. Acceptance

**Chapter 36 – Acceptance**

When I woke the following morning, the first thing that I heard was the comforting hum of a woodpecker making a hole in a near-by tree. It took me a minute to get my barings and remember where I was. When I opened my eyes, the remains of a well burned fire was in front of me. There was no heat comming from it now, the only warmth I felt was from being wrapped up snuggly in a worn old blanket. But I was greatful.

I looked around and could feel a little ray of morning sushine beaming through the many trees, warming on my face. I was in the middle of the militia camp. By the old Spanish Mission if I wasnt mistaken. My father Benjamin Martin had taken Gabriel, myself and Thomas along the old swamp paths when we were younger. Trust him to use a place like this to hide his band of ragged men. I sat upright and let the blanket fall from my shoulders, an instant change in the temperature was evident. I took a deep breath in and allowed it to fill me up. Once we got out from under the trees, it would be a lot warmer.

There were many men, all fast asleep nestled in their own equally thread-bare blankets. I instantly recognised the blonde matt of hair that was my brothers, sleeping not far away from me. There was a space which looked as though there had been someone sleeping it, although it was now empty. These men must have slept like this for nearly 9 months! I bet they couldnt even remember what it was like to sleep on the comfort of a mattress.

Getting to my feet, I felt the blade of the knife hidden in my boot press against me. It was uncomfortable, but I felt easier having it on me. I tried to step quietly around the slumbering men, it was a harder task than I expected it to be, as the men were so tightly packed in that it left little room to move without stepping on one of them.

Everything looked different in the day, than what it had done the night before. I could see that the place was filled with old bits of furniture with old maps strewn over it. This must have been where my father devised his plans. I had never seen him as a comander. At one point I had even thought him a bit of a coward. But now I realise that he was trying to protect his family at all costs. War was not a funny thing, it wasnt glorious and full of valour like I had thought it was. It was something that stripped people down into something that could mearly survive. It was a thing that ripped families apart and left a huge trail of sorrow and disapointment. I know understood why my father was against this war. He had once said that you should do everything that you can do to avoid a war, and I was begining to believe him.

To the right of the sleeping men, was a big pile of old clothes and wepons. I can only guess that they were what had been taken off dead soilders. After all, a dead man does not need his coat, where someone else could do with it.

Steping around tree roots and fallen leaves, I made my way back towards the stream that I had washed in the previous night. I stepped down and onto the bank. There was no body around, all that I could hear was the constant trickiling of the water as it made its way down its path. Too cold to take my red coat off, I bent down and splashed water on my face. The cold water was enough to wake anyone up!

Then out of no-where I heard a twig snap! Before I knew it, I had reached down, pulled the knife out of my boot and was pressing it against the throat of the person who tired to sneak up behind me.

The French Major, Jon Velenue looked stunned! He was not quite awake yet, but having my knife pressing into his skin, was enough to bring him to his senses.

"Woooow Miss Martin!" He staggered, "What are you doing?"

Seeing who it was I took the blade away. "Im sorry Major," I said, looking down at the knife in my hands, "You scared me..."

"And you scared me," said the Frenchman, "Believe me." He was rubbing his neck, looking for blood. I hadn't cut him. "She's a chip off the old block, Benjamin!" Velenue said.

I looked around curiously, and there was my father sitting on the bank a little further up the stream. When I had looked, I didnt even see him! "Yes," My father began, "You've got to keep your eyes open with Lucy"

"Your telling me!" Replied the Frenchman.

I let out a little laugh. Perhaps I did overeact a bit. I looked at my father and he was just looking out into the thick of the forest.

"Why have you got a knife, Lucy?" He asked me. He didnt even look at me when he had said this, just carried on looking into the trees.

I wasnt expecting that. "Well why do you carry a knife father, or your tomahalk?" I asked him, "Surley only to defend yourself if you ever should need too."

"Yes," Replied my father. "But I would hope that you would not carry a wepon like that if you plan on using it." I didnt know what my father was implying. He turned his gaze away from the woods and looked directly into my eyes. "Gabriel told me that you have made a promis. And John Billings told me what you said when you were in the British camp. That you did not want to be found and that you were better off dead"

I didnt answer him. I was not ready to share with him what had happened to me when I was in the camp. I felt confident that he would not judge me for it, but if I told him I was not sure what he would want to do. As we all knew, my father had a rage inside him that scared even him sometimes.

"Father," I began, "I have made a promis, and I will ask you not to push me to tell you."

Benjamin Martin looked from his daughter to the French Major still rubbing is neck. Jon Velenue shrugged. Benjamin knew that he could not push her to tell him if she didn't want to tell him. Having been a man who had served in two wars he knew what could happen to a young woman. He only felt sorry for letting Lucy be taken away into the camp. He did not feel the anger that he though he should feel, as she had not admitted anything to him. He would probably feel differnt if she ever did tell him abything.

"So Benjamin," said the Frenchman, aware of the silence which seperated father and daughter, "Whats the plan for tonight?"

"It's still early..." replied my father. "When the other men are awake, I shall tell you all" And with that he turned his gaze away from us and walked away into the thick of the forrest. We watched until we could no longer see the white of his shirt.

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Captain Wilkins woke with a start that morning. He was late getting up as most of the other dragoons who shared his tent had already left, probably to tend their horses. Wilkins had been dreaming. He did not dream as a rule, but that night he had. Corneal Tavington had woken him up the previous night and demanded that he give them information as to the where-abouts of Benjamin Martin's family.

Eager to please his Corneal, Wilkins had revealed the location of Martin's wife's sisters plantation. The only obvious place where he would send his family after their own house had been burnt to the ground. Wilkins had had a terrible dream where he vividly saw the faces of Martins children being murdered!

"What have I done?" Said the Captain to himself. He was a traitor to his contry, but he would never hurt inocents, children of his once friends especially.

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Later that night in the militia swomp camp, Benjamin Martin had gathered all his men together and were waiting to tell them the plan for that night. He had allowed the men to sleep in, and to enjoy the day, as best as they could in their circumstances. Martin knew that it was only a matter of time before the British found out the location where he was hiding his children, and he feared that they would strike that night. They had to be moved.

"Right men," Martin started. "As you all know, there is a traitor amoungst the British camp."

"Yeah too right we know," shouted John Billings. He had after all briefly been a prisioner in the camp.

"Andrew Wilkins used to be a man with honour," continued Martin, "He was one of the men who voted in favour of the war, and now has joined forces with the British."

There were various shouts of "Traitor" and "Snake" throughout the men, but they did not want to stop their leader from talking.

Martin continued, "As many of you know Wilkins, he will know whether you have family and more especially he will know where they are. It is important now that we all go to move our families to safer locations. We will do it in the shade of night, as this way we have more camoflage to hide them when we move them. I will ask you all to be patient, all of your families will be moved, but I fear that they will target those who the British have seen before they try to work their way through the rest of us."

Many of the men were nodding their heads in agreement. "Tonight we shall go to the plantation where my children are at, and then move Johns family. We then make our way into Penbroke. How does that sound?"

There was a murmor of acceptance. "Good," started Martin. "I want us to split into two groups when we move each family, one to move them and then one to act as a smoke screen should the British turn up. Agreed?" Another murmour. "Good. Tonight I want Gabriel, John Billings Reverand and Major Velenue to obtain the family, and then the rest of us to act as the smoke screen on horses. I want you to then take them to the white sand beach where Abigale and the rest of the field hands are,Im sure that they will be safe there. We then meet back here in the morning, and move on to the next family. Right, thank you. Lets prepare."

And with that most of the men took to busying themselves with different things, like shining their muskets, sharpening their blades, refilling their gunpowder, etc. My father came and sat by me, "I want you to go with your brothers and sisters to the white sand beach, stay with them and keep them safe..."

"No," I almost shouted! "I want to stay and fight!"

"Absolutly not." My father said, as though it was the end of the conversation. I was right, I was just expected to turn back into a child that needed to be protected.

"Father," I sternly said, grasping hold of his arm so that he had to listen, "I have more reason to fight than many of these men! You must let me stay!"

"No Lucy," Said my father looking at me, "I am not risking loosing you again. You will be safe with your brothers and sisters."

"You dont know what I have been through!" I shouted at him! "I have had 9 months without you. I am not a child anymore! I do not need to be protected. I have seen things that you would not imagine, I have been subjected to things that you would not put a dog through, and I am not just going to leave. You wanted to know what I had prommised, I made a promis to Wilkins that I would not rest until I killed him. I want to see the life drain from his eyes for what he done to me!"

My father just looked at me. He sudenly understood. He knew that Wilkins had been infatuated with me and that I had rejected his proposition of marriage, and he understood that he had just taken what he had wanted. Once again my father felt a rage grow inside him. How dare he.

"I want you out of this war Lucy." He said in a deathly calm voice.

"Yeah," I said, not taking my eyes away from him, "Well Im not leaving."

"Gabriel," My father shouted. My brother came over to where we were sitting. I expect that he had heard most of what was said, as he wore a look which rivled my fathers. "Take good care of her tonight when she goes with you."

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"What!" Shouted William Tavington at the young dragoon. He couldnt believe what it was he was hearing!

"There was an ambush," stuttered the dragoon, "And she escaped with them"

How could that happen! Lucy Martin would go to find the militia, having been in the camp she could be able to give away secrets to the layout of the camp. She could give them the exact location of Cornwallis's office, so that they could once again sneek into the camp! He dare not tell Cornwallis this. He had after all taken responsibility for Lucy when she had been there.

"You may leave." He said to the dragoon, he wanted to be by himself, to think things over.

"Sir," nervously said the dragoon, "Miss Martin asked me to give you this." The dragoon handed over a dirty red coat. "She said to say thank you."

Tavington felt the fabric of the coat under his fingers and gave a curt nod. The dragoon took a bow and left the tent, leaving Tavington alone. One thing was for sure and that was that he did not expect to have this coat back. It came as a surprise to him that she had thought to deliver it back to him. Tavington could not get Lucy Martin out of his mind, she had occupied most of his waking thoughts since she had left for Washington.

He held the coat and smelled it. It still smelled of her, even though it had been in the charge of the dragoon for that past two days. He wondered where she was. Was she with her family? The family that she had longed to see for all the time that she was at the camp.

Tavington stood up straight and pulled his own clean jacket down. He threw her jacket onto his cot and went to pick up his green helmet from on his desk. He had a job to do that night, and it was time to go.

When any of the men saw Corneal Tavington, they cleared the way for him to pass, they all salooted him hoping to stay in his good books. He passed Borden who was also comming out of his tent, helmet under his arm.

"Are we ready Corneal?" Asked the Major.

"As ready as we will ever be." Tavington replied. Together they walked away from the cluster of greying tents, towards the stables. The dragoons were after all a mounted company, and took pride in their horses.

The sun was just begining to set, and a deep orange glint could be seen in the air.

"Oh look, a red sky at night" said Borden, "Shepards delight." Tavington said nothing. God he hated how cheerful Borden was. Tavington was trying to focus. They would probably be gone from camp for about 3 days by the time they went to pembroke as well. He knew exactly wat he was going to do. Spare no one. If they helped the enemy, they were the enemy and needed to be stopped.

His men were all ready all at the stables, Wilkins too. It was time, and he didnt even have to say anything to his men. They all knew him well enough not to keep him waiting. They all believed that if they looked after him, then he would look after them.

"Right men," Said Tavington, mounting his horse, "let go."


	37. Gabriels News

**Chapter 37 – Gabriel's News**

I had watched the sun set over the wet swamp, casting eerie shadows over the calm water. I knew what had to be done that night, and was surprised that my farther had agreed to let me participate in the way that I was going to. I would be joining Gabriel, John, the reverend and the major in helping to gather my brothers and sisters from Charlotte's plantation. I knew that it was only a matter of time before Cornwallis found out where the "Ghost" would hide his younger children. I just hoped that they would hang on one more night, so that we could move them without incident. So that when the British came upon the house, it would be empty.

Dressed in the red coat of the British was oddly familiar. There was something almost comforting in wearing it around my tired shoulders. I knew that that coat would keep me warm on the coldest nights and I knew that it took forever to dry when the time came for me to wash it. I was sat on the leaf strewn ground. Near where I had slept the previous night. To my left was the fire that was burning brightly and almost burning the one side of my face. If I had learnt anything over the past few months, it was not to complain when there was a fire in the night. For without it I knew how cold it could get.

I looked to my right and could see the greying head of my father as he consulted his maps for the last time that night. The French major was at his side, again in his pale blue coat, looking anxious. Come to think of it, all that men were looking anxious. I didn't know if this was their almost routine? All sitting in silence before moving out, deep in though and worrying about everything that could potentially go wrong that night. Sure it was a heavy burden if it did go wrong, there was so much at stake. I could see that all the bedraggled militia men adored my father, almost as though he was a close family member to them. When they spent so much time together in the conditions that they were in, it was easy to see how these men all became each others family.

Or maybe it was that all the men had their own families to worry about that night, and that by moving one family, only brought them one step closer to moving their own to safety. That was all tonight's efforts were... a means to an end.

The hard, cold blade of the knife I had only acquired the previous night was pressing sharply into my calf. Reminding me of its presence. If I had been told a year ago that I would be where I was sitting today, with a knife and the intention to use it, I would not have believed it. Did I really believe that when the time came that I would be able to end a mans life? Would I really be able to turn into the kind of monster that could do it? I really didn't know. When I sat and thought about my reasons for wanting a knife, I could feel the anger begin to pulse through me, filling every little corner of my being. When I was in that frame of mind, it wasn't hard to imagine doing the deed.

"Lucy? Are you alright?" My brother Gabriel asked, cutting through my train of thought. I looked up to see his face anxious also. I was so consumed in my plotting that I hadn't even seen him walk up to me.

"Yes." I replied curtly. I wanted to go tonight, and what was more was that I wanted to be in the party that got the family. I'd be able to touch them with my own hands, knowing that they were safe. And that I was doing everything in my power to keep them so. No fear, was I going to be a helpless girl who needed someone to fight my battles any more.

"I really don't think it's a good idea you coming tonight Lucy", Gabriel said, sitting down next to me with an awkward slump. "I think it would be much safer for you to stay here for the night and then make your way to the beach when we return"

"No." I said just as assertively as before. "I will be in that party, Gabe. And what's more is that if I go to the beach, it will be to see our families safe and then I will return here with you and father."

"What?" Gabriel said with a horrified look, he looked as though I had just spat on him! "There's no way you can stay here Lucy."

"And why not?" I asked him. He again looked stunned that I had grown this much confidence. Not waiting for him to answer, "I have just as much right to be here as you do. I've already been through all of this with father..."

"What? And he's okay with that is he?" My brother said looking me straight in the eye. He knew that there was no way our father would just let me stay with the Militia.

"Well he hasn't said either way." I suddenly looked away sheepishly. I knew when I was beaten. "I know its not going to be safe, but being at the British camp wasn't safe either. "

I let out a deep breath. I could see my breath mist in the chilling dark that was beginning to swamp us, covering South Carolina in a blanket of night. "All I need is a gun, and you know I'll be okay."

"A gun?" Gabriel whispered to me. He obviously didn't want our father to hear us. "Lucy I really don't think..."

"Oh Gabriel!" I was loosing patients with him. "You know I'm a good shot! The amount of times me, you and Thomas went shooting. Why are you so against it?"

"Because it's a gun..." he said. He really didn't seem comfortable having this conversation. "Its bad enough I got you that knife. I really don't know what you think you're going to need a gun for."

"You have one!" I stated. "Actually you have more than one, if you count you pistol and your rifle, and you spare pistol! Now why do you need all those guns? What's really going to happen to you that warrant you carry a spare pistol?"

"No, no, no hang on" Gabriel began, "Your not having my spare pistol!" He started looking around frantically, looking for some sort of distraction.

"Why not?" I asked him. "You don't need it..."

"Have you heard the news about me and Anne Howard?" Gabriel blurted out, quickly turning to me and staring me straight in the eyes.

What ever it was he was trying to do, it worked. What gun? "No," I said, suddenly interested in every word coming out of his mouth.

"If I tell you," Gabriel began lowering his voice to a whisper so that no one but me could hear, "You must promise not to tell Father, or anyone else for that matter..."

"Oh my gosh I promise," I said quickly, excited to hear what it was he had to say.

Gabriel leaned in closer to me again. We were both now completely covered by darkness, but the burning fire highlighted his still boyish smile that appeared as he took a breath in.

"Anne has agreed to become my wife." You couldn't cover the cheshire cat grin that immediately took over his face. My hands were over my mouth before I knew it! I was so happy for my elder brother, and for my good friend Anne. I had always known that there was something between them, for years and years everyone could see that this was indeed how it would end; it was only the two of them who didn't.

"And Father doesn't know?" I asked, still smiling broadly.

"No," Said my brother, "The Reverend knows. He's agreed to marry us when we get the opportunity. But apart from him, no one but us."

"Okay," I muttered. I must make sure to keep that one quiet.

"What's going on here then?" Both Gabriel and I instantly looked up. Our father was standing over us, looking down at his laughing children. Seeing the expression on our faces, that could only be described as being caught with your hand in the cookie jar, my father himself laughed. "It's been too long since I've seen you laugh."

"Oh father," Gabriel began. He quickly looked over to me, and then back up to look at him, "You're getting sentimental in your old age!" And with that all three of us again laughed. He was right, it had been too long.

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The swamp was eerie as we trudged through it, knee deep in cold mud. The crickets played in a great orchestra as we passed their resting place for the night, disturbing the undergrowth as we went. I had gotten my way in the end, and Gabriel had surrendered his spare pistol to me. That now was placed in my belt. I really didn't know what tonight was going to bring, but I knew that I was only a short time away from seeing my family. With that in mind I pulled my feet a little more fiercely.

We had already split into our two groups. My father had lead the majority of the men on horseback away from the swamp, where as Gabriel, Jon Velenue, John Billings, the Reverand and myself found ourselves alone. We were nearly at the edge, of which took us close to Charlottes plantation; we would go through the slave quarters and retrieve them from the back of the house.

I had a horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach. Maybe the men had it right earlier with their anxious faces... I just couldn't shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen.

"Lucy!" My brother's voice boomed. I whipped my head around, trying to gage where the voice had come from in the dark.

"What?" I replied with urgency.

"Now please stay behind us." The concern in his voice was evident; he was only trying to protect me. I didn't answer him, I could see the trees begging to thin and the outline of a magnificent plantation 

was ahead of us. I had forgotten how beautiful Charlotte's home was, big white columns stretching up to the sky, and different plants snaking their way up the walls. It was everything a South Carolina plantation should be. The French major took a deep breath in of appreciation.

There were a few lights on, not many. It was obvious the children were sleeping. I saw the window to the room that my sisters and I used to share when we came here to visit. I wondered if that was now the room that housed Margaret and Susan. We were out of the mud now, and just coming to the edge of the trees, when suddenly there was a tight hold around my upper arm.

I was pulled forward by one of my party; nearly causing me to trip there was that much force. My better judgement told me to stay quiet, and not to question anything until we stopped.

I looked to the side of the house, and that was when I caught sight of them. A company of Dragoons, all mounted on their horses were riding down the drive way. Even though we were around the back of the house, we had to be carful that we weren't seen. They were advancing with urgency down the dusty drive. The horses kicked up a lot of dust as they galloped.

"How did them..." John Billings asked to no one in particular, surprise was clear in his shaky voice. A sudden flash of light caught my attention from one of the rooms upstairs. Too quick it was gone to be a lamp; they were awake in the house. The quick light appeared and then disappeared from the window next to it; someone was running around with a candle.

"What shall we do?" The Reverend asked, this time I heard fear in his whisper. The Dragoons were coming to a halt at the front of the house, there was easily 20 men dismounting their horses, and they were quiet... too quiet. It was then that I heard his voice, the voice that had haunted my dreams for weeks, his deathly silent whisper that commanded attention and unquestioning faith. Although quiet, it carried around the back of the house to where we were hiding, behind a bush.

"Search the house and barns..." All I had to do was peer around the bush and I would see him, "Bring me those children, I want them alive".

Hearing those words, panic rushed through me. There was no other choice, there was no way that I would allow for any of my brothers and sisters to be held captive within the British camp, they were too young. One last look towards the front of the house, and I could see the Dragoons slowly climbing the front steps and into the house. I looked at my brother and I saw the panic ignite in his eyes as he realised what I was about to do, as quickly as I could I turned and sprinted for the door into the kitchen.

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Samuel, rifle in hand was at the back of the party. Everyone in the house was up and now running as silently as they could through the house. They clambered down the servant's stair case and in to the dining room. The long room with the rectangular table in the middle seemed a dead end. There was no where to go, that he could see. The red coats were already in the house, he just hoped that there was enough time to get them out of the back of the house before they were discovered.

"This way..." Aunt Charlotte whispered. She moved forward, handed Susan to Margaret as she lifted a curtain and revealed the servants stairs that lead into the kitchen. With one look behind her she stepped down the stairs.

"Go on..." Samuel urged his sister. Margaret, panic stricken handed Susan to Charlottes waiting arms. She then climbed down herself. Samuel always watching motioned for his youngest brother William to go next. There was only Nathan and himself and then they would all be safe, or that was what he hoped.

Nathan was the next one down, but Samuel heard it before all the others. He quickly pulled back the curtain, hiding the entrance. Where to hide? That was his only option... for he knew who was coming. The heavy sound of his metal boot spurs on the wooden floor warned Samuel. He clutched his rifle tighter in his hand and dashed underneath the table cloth.


	38. Surprises

**38 – Surprises**

**A/N: I know its been ages, but I've been very busy. Please bare with me. I hope you enjoy the surprises in this chapter as much as I enjoyed thinking them ;)**

Samuel held his breath and swallowed the little saliva that was left in his dry mouth. He could hear the pounding of his heart against his rib cage and he was sure that was going to give him away. He could see the black leather boots and the cold silver spurs of the "Butchers" boots. He was walking right up to where Samuel was hiding.

Samuel was in the long reticular dining room in his Aunts plantation house, hiding under the table in the centre of the room. He knew that his brothers, sisters and Aunt where safely through the trap door that led them into the pantry and through to the kitchen. But here he was, trapped. No where to go, and the famous Corneal William Tavington was fast approaching. What he wouldn't give to just shoot the heavy rifle in his hands. One bullet and he would make the Corneal pay for what he had done to Samuel's brother, Thomas, almost a year ago.

Tavington now seemed to be right on top of Samuel! He could smell the gunpowder on the Cornel he was so close. This was his chance... now or never. Samuel, with his rifle in hand, cocked the mettle hammer back with a "click".

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Tavington was fed up. He had been fed up since he had left the camp that night to begin the raid. And this was all he needed, to be searching around a house that he imagined Lucy had grown up in. Everywhere he went he seemed to see some part of her in something. And he was fed up! That Martin girl had certainly got under his skin.

All the same he knew he had to expect the unexpected. He was on edge. His eyes were wide and his ears were pricked for any sound that didn't belong. He had come to the plantation that that rat Wilkins had said and now they were there, there was no sign of the Martin family. All apart from the faint smell of burning candles.

He was in the dining room, a long room with big windows. This would have been the room she had eaten in. This was crazy! William Tavington wasn't the sort of man who lusted after women! He was beginning to feel like a love struck, hormonal teenager, not a commanding officer in King George's army! "Pull your self together man!" he thought to himself.

All of a sudden, Tavington's ears pricked. There was a sound that didn't belong. A sound that sounded like it had come from within that very room! But there was no one there. He was alone! Or so he thought.

Tavington bent down as silently as he could. There was that long table, with a very large tablecloth... With a movement as quick as a cheater, Tavington whipped the plain white cloth up, revealing a table, with no one under it. That was it. He was loosing his grip on reality, imagining noises that weren't there, thinking that people where hiding under tables! It was all ridiculous!

His ears pricked again; there was defiantly the sound of boots walking along the corridor that he himself had just walked down to get into the dining room. Quickly pulling his gun from his belt, he spun around to face the intruder.

"Well, well, well..." said a smug voice. If not a little breathless. "And what is William Tavington doing looking under my dining room table?"

Tavington knew the voice before he even had a chance to look at the face. Lucy Martin was stood in the doorway, looking straight in on him. She wore a dirty old red coat, but what was more noticeable was the hand pistol she had held to him.

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I had never been fantastic at thinking on my feet. I had done the only thing that I could think of doing, when I saw the white tablecloth move and my younger brother Samuel appear on the one side, just as Tavington had lifted the other side to peer under the table. The look of utter terror that was plastered on his face had given me the courage to pull my newly acquired gun from my belt and hold it at Tavington.

As I spoke those words (not carefully chosen, but it was the first thing that had come to mind,) I observed Tavington. Stating the obvious asking him what he was doing! There was very little light in the room, and the little light there was, was shining through the long windows, the moon reflecting its ghostly light.

Tavington had his gun in his hand, although it was not raised. I had seen how quick his reactions where and knew that if he wanted too, he could raise his gun and fire before I even realised what he was doing. Samuel looked up at me and it was obvious he was stunned to see his older sister, presumably captured, standing in the door way, in a red coats uniform and holding a pistol. If there was one thing I was sure off, it was of how I had changed over the past year when I had last seen Samuel.

But seeing him there made me believe that tonight's efforts would not be in vain. If Samuel was alive then there was a good possibility that they were all still alive. That was all I had needed to see. It felt like a heavy weight had been lifted out of my chest.

"Of course" I thought. As I stood in the room, I remembered from childhood that there had been a servant's trap door that leads to the pantry and kitchen, hidden in the wall behind the curtain. That explained why Samuel was hiding under the table. He must have not had time to climb through the passage way.

Breathing hard as I had just run from the garden and climbed through one of the ground floor windows, I stared at Tavington. His ice blue eyes were piercing and they looked even more menacing in the limited light. His eyes shone as though they were being powered by the moonlight. He had his full Dragoons uniform on, hat and all.

"What did you think you would find here William?" I asked in a quiet voice. Never taking my eyes from him now.

His demeanour changed, he looked as though he was fighting an internal battle that no one could hear but himself. There was defiantly a pained expression on his features.

He crossed the room in four strides, dropped his gun to the floor and before I knew it, he had taken me in his arms and kissed me. He kissed me with more passion than I had ever known. His arms tightened around my waist and pushed me closer to him, there was no way I would have been able to escape even if I wanted to. His tongue eagerly explored my mouth and before I knew it, I was hungrily kissing him back. My arms tighten around his neck, not allowing him to break the kiss.

My gun fell to the floor and all I could do was kiss him. I felt my knees weaken and I leaned against him for support. I was so close to him I could feel the tight muscles under his uniform embracing me.

He pushed me against the wall, just on the inside of the dining room. I broke the kiss for a moment and he explored my neck eagerly. I looked over Tavingtons shoulder and saw the curtain where the hidden door was move. That must have been Samuel using this time (and the distraction that I provided) to get out of the dining room. Only a few more minutes and they could escape out of the back of the house and through to the slave quarters where the Militia were waiting to take them to safety.

I found his lips again, and kissed him. His kiss was so powerful. "Wow!" I thought, "This is incredible!" I remembered the last kiss that we had shared, that night I had tried to free the Militia from the British camp. Again the only reason why I kissed him was to distract him long enough so I could grab the key from his desk. And was the only reason I was kissing him now, so I could help my family escape? "No!" I thought. He was the one who had crossed the room to kiss me! He must have wanted this as much as I did!

And I certainly wanted him. Not that I had been kissed by lots of men, but this was defiantly one to remember!

His weight shifted and the next thing I knew was him pulling away from me, with a cold blade pressing to my neck! My god! This man was just full of surprises! His one hand held me against the wall while the other was held firmly on the knife.

"Where are they?" he whispered in my ear. I dared not move. Had that been a trick of his? I should have known when he pushed me up against the wall. He was breathing heavily, as was I. How could I have been such a fool? But there was no way anyone could fake passion like that; could they?

"I don't know who you mean?" I lied. There was no way I was going to tell him the truth. No alarm had been sounded, so that must be a good sign that they had made it undetected. I just had to give them as much time as I could.

"You know very well who I mean!" He shouted. Looking me straight in the eyes. His outburst had made me jump and I could foolishly feel myself welling up!

"There's no one here!" I shouted. I had to make up some story. "I came here looking for them and the place was empty when I got here. Few slaves... that's all that's here" I hated the word slaves, for they had never been slaves. My father didn't believe in it, and so had given them part of the plantation for them to work and have themselves. In return they helped around the plantation.

"I know you joined your farther!" Tavington said, "Your party was ambushed and you escaped with the Militia! I'm telling you, don't lie to me! Where are they!"

I didn't know what else to say, the tears had started rolling now. I couldn't believe that he was behaving the way he was. For us to share that amazing kiss and then for him to behave like that! It was enough to make any grown woman cry! I shook my head.

"Fine," He said. He let out a deep breath and relaxed his position a bit, still not taking the knife away.

"William, you're hurting me," I said trying not to look him in the face. I felt embarrassed having behaved like that! But I had wanted him.

"Oh," he said. Lowering his knife. As soon as it was down below where I could see it, I swung for him, and slapped him right across his flushed face! I was angry! I was furious at him! How could he behave like that! I knew his reactions were quick, and I was some how not surprised that he took hold of my hands and held them firm, pushing my back against the wall.

"Stop that now," He said with authority. And then he looked at me, this small, snivelling wreck held up against a wall.

"Borden!" He shouted. Not long after he shouted, did I hear the clicking of metal spurs against the wooden floor. I looked up and watched as Major Borden walked into the dim room, holding his helmet under his arm. He looked shocked and took his last two steps slowly. No doubt, he was surprised to see me being pinned to the wall by the Cornel.

"Sir?" Borden asked, he was after all here on request.

"Hold Miss Martin in custody, I will need to question her when we get back to the camp." And with that, he dropped his hands and walked away straight out of the door and down the corridor.


	39. FIRE

**Chapter 39 – FIRE**

**A/N: To all my loyal readers, I am truly sorry that it has taken as long as it has to update. Here is the next instalment, please enjoy... :D Ronnie xxx**

I heard a loud gunshot booming from outside, breaking the deathly silence that surrounded us. It echoed through the big house. I knew the Malitia would be coming to create a diversion, to draw the dragoons away. This giving the family enough time to silently creep through the plantation, into the safety of the swamp.

BANG! Another gunshot! I was sure that they had just killed again. And as though I knew, I heard the sound of a lifeless body crumpling to the floor. That must have been Isaac the field hand, he always was too curious for his own good. He probably walked up to the Dragoons seeing what they wanted for fear of them waking Charlotte in the big house.

Major Borden looked down at me, still tear stricken. I couldn't meet his eyes. The strong feelings that I had for that man not evident at that moment. When I had first gone to the camp Major Borden was the first person to make me feel valued and safe. But his fiancé Lucy O'Shea had put a stop to all those feelings. More gun shots! I could just make out the flash from their firing pistols from the hall way.

Colonel William Tavington, the dreaded Butcher shouted "To horse, to horse!" in his deep commanding voice. They must have just seen the waiting Malitia, led by my father, the notorious "Ghost". The sound of 20 men running to their horses and thundering off away from the house was not the most pressing thing on my mind, for at that moment, I smelled smoke...

Major Borden must have too for his weight shifted and he looked around wildly. He must have had his horse waiting outside the plantation, and on smelling the now thick smoke he was keen to get on it and ride far away. The hall way lit up... I could now see the bright orange flames licking at the high walls and climbing so that the ceiling was now consumed. We had to get out, but Borden seemed unable to move, mesmerised by the dancing flames.

Thick black smoke came flooding into the dining room, like a burst river bank. It just kept coming. Soon the hot smoke was chocking me. I tried to pull away from Borden, but his grip was too tight on my wrists!

"Borden!" I coughed urgently, "We need to get out!"

He turned and stared at me. Pure fear was registering in his eyes, not reason. He couldn't move, he couldn't let me go. I pulled again. But the more I pulled the tighter his grip became. "This is it", I thought, "I'm going to die!" I could hardly breathe the smoke was so thick. It burned my lungs as I inhaled this toxic black smoke. I was going dizzy with the lack of clean air.

I heard an echoing crash! As the ceiling in the hall way collapsed, it sent a pulse of orange fire into the dining room where we were. In a second the curtains were ablaze, the tidy white table cloth ignited over the massive dining table, creating a huge menacing bon fire in the middle of the room. I could feel the heat burning my cheek.

BANG! The hall way ceiling broke down even further. The flames were getting closer. I pulled hard against Bordens iron grip, "Let go!" I shouted. He wouldn't let me go, he was terrified. The door way collapsed into the hall way. I couldn't get out... we were trapped!

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"What do you mean kissing him?" Gabriel asked his shaken brother Samuel, kneeling down so that he looked his younger brother in the face. He held onto his shoulders as he asked. Gabriel was so happy to see his family safe that he didn't want to let them go again. When they had run out of the kitchen towards the back of the house, they had looked so vulnerable. So innocent being led by their brave Aunt Charlotte.

"I mean exactly that Gabriel," Samuel said. "She walked in and asked him what he was doing? And then he grabbed her and started kissing her! It was when he wasn't looking that I went through the trap door and joined the others in the kitchen."

Gabriel stared at his brother, unbelieving. Was this true he thought? He didn't think Lucy was capable of something like that. But then again he wasn't sure what she was capable of now, she was certainly a different person. When Gabriel was pondering this it was John Billings who interrupted him.

"Look, they're leaving, Maybe Lucy's with them." He suggested calmly. All that could be seen was a flurry of red coats running for they're horses. And that night, Lucy was wearing a borrowed red coat.

"John, will you?" Gabriel asked his friend, knowing that Billings would do so without argument.

"Of course" And with that John Billings began to creep from bush to bush, until he was near the front of the house, watching.

Gabriel turned to embrace his waiting family once again. Susan was still clinging to Charlotte, wide eyed and afraid. Charlotte smiled at him. "Was it your Father leading them away?"

"Yes," said Gabriel, "He wants us to take you somewhere safe. Somewhere they can't hurt you." Charlotte nodded, and kissed a scared Susan on the forehead.

"Gabriel!" called John Billings a little while later, still watching the front of the house. "She hasn't left with them, not that I can see! She must still be in there"

"Is that smoke?" said the Reverend, pointing at the windows to the dining room and hall way. Gabriel followed his pointing finger and sure enough he could see the thick smoke and the bright orange flames of a fire.

Not knowing what else to do, Gabriel left his family and sprinted up to the front of the house. All the Dragoons had left, but one. There was still one of the horses outside the house. Gabriel turned the corner and peered into the main door to the house, and down the hall way. There was no way he would be able to get through there, the flames were too many and the smoke was too thick, and it looked like some of the ceiling had collapsed.

Turning back on his heel and running back down the side of the house, quickly followed be John Billings and his younger brother Samuel. Gabriel looked into the windows, he couldn't see anything.

"Lucy!" Gabriel shouted, "Lucy!" Knocking his fists against the soot blackened windows.

The others joined in, but they couldn't hear anything from inside the house. Not giving up, Gabriel turned to Samuel and said in a rushed, panicked voice "Samuel, take us to the trap door!"

Samuel looked frightened himself, panicked. He heard what Gabriel had asked him, and nodded quickly. He turned and lead the others into the back of the house. Through the kitchen and then Gabriel saw it, the steep steps that lead into the above dining room.

Gabriel pushed his younger brother aside and was the first up the steps.

The door was boiling to touch. But adrenaline now pumping through him, Gabriel gave the door one big push, and it swung open.


	40. Silver Candle Sticks

**Chapter 40 – Silver Candle Sticks**

**A/N: Here is another chapter for you :D hope you enjoy it. Ronnie xxx**

The black smoke was so thick, I could only see a faint outline of Major Borden, his hands still iron tight around my wrists. All I could see was black and then the vibrant orange flashes licking at the walls, the ceiling, the table, all around me. I gave an all mighty cough, my lungs fast becoming full of soot. I felt like I was going to be sick, anything to get rid of this suffocating soot sticking in my throat. I felt dizzy, a few moments longer and I'm sure I'll pass out unconscious. At least unconscious I might not feel the flames.

If only Major Borden wasn't as strong as what he is. I gave another tug, but he still wouldn't let go. In some ways I was glad that he was with me, it was scary enough being in a burning building, but I imagined it would be even worse if I were trapped on my own.

The only things that I could hear was the sounds of fire devouring the wooden structure that was my Aunts beautiful South Carolina plantation. The crackling as the flames ate its way up the walls. I could also hear Borden's erratic and laboured breathing; he was finding it just as suffocating as I was.

Crash! Something changed in that room, it wasn't as it was. Some of the smoke cleared, it was as though something had sucked a big load of black smoke out of the room. I felt a blast of cool air from somewhere. Bordens hands tightened momentarily, he had seen it too.

I squinted my eyes, in the hope of seeing something, anything through the thick smoke. I could hear shouting in the distance, it was as though hearing someone when your head is under water, all muffled. I swayed heavily to the side, it was getting hard to stand up now. Another minute and I'll be gone I thought. The flames where creeping closer every second. Wasn't you meant to see your life flash before your eyes in the moments before you died?

And then I did. Gabriel was striding through the thick smoke towards me, panic written across his dirty face. He had his hand covering over his mouth, trying not to breath in the toxic smoke.

"Let's go!" I barely heard him shout over the fire's crackles. He grabbed my arm and gave an all mighty pull. I didn't move, Major Borden still had a tight hold on my wrists and he wasn't moving anywhere. Fear froze him to the ground where he stood, a frozen statue in the inferno.

Gabriel looked back at me. Shock now registering on his face, confusion as to why I wasn't moving to safety. I pulled against Borden, but again he wouldn't budge. He wasn't even looking at Gabriel, his eyes were fixed on the advancing flames.

"Come on!" Gabriel shouted, this time putting his hand around Bordens arm and pulling. Borden shifted slightly. Gabriel pulled again, Borden still wasn't moving fast enough. Looking around wildly, Gabriel ran up to the wall cupboard and grabbed something big and silver. With one fluid movement, Gabriel brought it down around Bordens head. Borden crumpled to the floor. He was unconscious.

My arms now free, I moved lightening quick around to where Gabriel was. Together we both bent down and grabbed one of Bordens arms. And between the two of us we somehow managed to manoeuvre an unconscious Borden through the flames and to the open trap door which would lead to the kitchen.

Waiting at the bottom of the trap door was John Billings and my younger brother Samuel. Their faces lit up when they saw Gabriel and me coming through the smoke.

"Here!" Gabriel instructed as we passed Borden through the trap door and into John and Samuel's waiting arms. Then we were out. The kitchen hadn't yet caught ablaze, but I wager it wouldn't be long until it did. We scurried along behind the others, still trying not to breath in too much of the black smoke, which was now quickly filling the kitchen. With one last push of the back door, we were out! The cool night air whipped at my skin, stinging it there was that much of a temperature difference. I breathed in cold, clean air for what felt like the first time in ages! I would never take clean air for granted again I vowed.

Hands on my knees and crouching over, I was exhausted! I felt like I hadn't slept in days and then went and ran a marathon! I was just about to collapse on the dew moist grass when Gabriel grabbed me by the back of the neck and pushed me forward. I threw my arms out and tried to straighten up, but Gabriel was not moving.

"Gabriel what the..." I shouted, still trying to get him off my neck. But with no joy. He pushed with all his might and started frog marching me forward and away from the house.

"Lucy!" I heard shouted from somewhere behind me. I recognised this as the voice of my brother Samuel. And I also heard anxiety in his voice, confusion.

"It's all right Samuel!" Shouted Gabriel, "Go wait with the others!" his voice was commanding and Samuel did what he was told.

Gabriel marched me down into the thick trees, so that we were out of view and hopefully out of ear shot. I couldn't see where we were going, Gabriel's hand was hard against my neck, restricting me from moving. "Gabriel!" I shouted again, "What do you think you're doing? Unhand me!"

He pushed me away, so hard that I lost my footing and fell to the floor. My hand went up immediately to cover the spot on my neck where he had grabbed. Adrenaline flushed through my system, I was confused and angry at being man handled in the way that he did. I could hear my own accelerated heart beating in my ears. I turned around to face Gabriel and saw that he had his face in his hands, he was pacing. This sight confused me more. "What's the matter Gabriel?" I asked, concerned at seeing my brother like that. Some of the anger in me faded away.

"What are you doing Lucy?" He sniped, still pacing, head still in hands.

"I don't know what..." I started. I was confused with what he'd said. What I was doing was recovering from nearly being burned alive, waiting to see my family that I had yet to see.

But he interrupted, shouting, "You're lying to us Lucy?" I saw a rage in my brother that I had never seen before.

"No!" I yelled defensively, "Lying about what Gabriel?" I didn't know what he was talking about, but I felt I needed to justify myself. I needed to prove that I wasn't lying.

"I mean it all makes sense," Gabriel started, more to himself than to me. "You're so different now, it could be true. And they attacked tonight, didn't even know where they were hiding."

I looked up, still sat on the hard ground, too exhausted to stand. I watched my brother pace some more, before I said "Gabriel, what are you talking about?" Hopefully with reason in my voice.

As quick as a flash Gabriel stopped pacing and was now on the ground beside me, with his hands tightly around my throat! I grabbed up at him, so shocked at being chocked! I clawed at his hands but they didn't release at all. I couldn't breathe. Desperately I clenched my first and brought it up to Gabriel's face. He stumbled slightly and lost his balance. I took this as my chance and quickly stood up, not waiting to be put back in that situation. I quickly drew the knife I had out of my boot and held it out in front of me.

"What the hell are you doing?" I shouted as much as I could. My voice was raspy enough from the smoke, let alone this second assault. I stepped back a few paces so that I was a good few feet away from Gabriel.

Gabriel looked up at me with pure and clear hatred in his eyes. "Samuel saw you Lucy!"

"Samuel saw what?" I asked, still no clearer about what I was being accused off.

Gabriel went to stand up from the floor, "He saw you with the Butcher! He saw you kissing him!" Gabriel now stood up to his full height, which was a lot taller than me. He looked disgusted! "How could you!" he shouted angrily, "How could you have him touch you! He killed Thomas, or have you forgotten that!"

Now I understood. "Gabriel it's not what you think, I did it for..."

"I don't care what you did it for Lucy!" He turned fully to face me and shouted. "You're a traitor!" Gabriel was welling up, I could see that he was getting very upset. "You're a traitor to your country, to the Militia and to your family! Our family! And I'll be damned if I'm going to let you give the British they're positions so that they can come and murder all of them like they did with Thomas!" Gabriel stood up tall, and drew his loaded pistol out of his belt. He aimed it right at me and said "I don't even know you anymore!"

I was shocked, frozen to the ground where I stood. How could he think that? He knew that family was the most important thing to me and that I loved them more than anything in the world; that I would die for any one of them. But looking now at my older brother, with that amount of hatred in his eyes, hatred for me, I felt that I didn't even know him either. I had seen some pretty horrible things in the last 9 months, but this situation really did break my heart.

"Gabriel," I lowered my knife and took a step forwards towards him, "I am not lying." I took another step forwards. I could see that Gabriel was fighting an internal battle. He was shaking slightly and his eyes were filling with tears "I swear that I'm not." My lower lip began to quiver, could my own brother really pull that trigger?

"Explain it then!" He shouted, "You're not the same!" as shaky as he was, I knew that if he was going to fire, he would have done it already and he would not miss.

"I can't explain Gabe" I said, there was no way that I could admit to him that I had enjoyed the kiss I shared with Tavington, that I had wanted it just as much as he did. My brother would defiantly shoot me if I were to tell him that! "But I can tell you that I would never give away our families position to the British! I love them too much and you know that Gabriel!"

Feeling a new confidence within me when pleading my case, I looked at the knife in my outstretched hand. Weapon at the ready I thought, this was not what I wanted to have my knife for. Seeing the moon light bouncing off the metal blade, I threw it to the ground to the side of me. I looked up at my brother his eyes had followed the falling blade.

"You're just going to have to trust me." I said with as much conviction that I could manage after everything that we had been through that night.

Gabriel once again looked conflicted. His blue eyes shone in the night air, emphasised by fresh tears. He looked from me to his gun.

"Come on Gabriel," I pleaded. "Trust me." My voice broke and tears began to form in my own eyes. "Put the gun down, brother."

"I don't..." Gabriel began. He looked so scared and confused. I could see the reason why he was doing this. It was to protect his family, even if that meant protecting them from a member of that very family. Would I not also do the same? Of course I would and I knew it. He was acting out of love and nothing else.

"Gabriel," I once again pleaded. His gun was still pointing right at me. "Put the gun down and let me see my family."

This sparked something in his eyes. I could see that he was beginning to believe me. The hatred began to slip away, being replaced by anguish. He looked at the gun in his outstretched hand. Slowly he lowered it until it was resting at his side.

Tears were running down his sooty cheeks. "Lucy, I had to." He began.

"I know" I said plainly, raising my hand stopping him. He didn't need to justify himself I realised. He didn't need to feel sorry for his actions, for he had suspicions and feared for the safety of his family. At that moment in time, I wasn't his sister. I was someone who was potentially going to harm his family. I know that I would have acted in exactly in the same way.

Gabriel looked down at his boots, embarrassed. I bent down to retrieve my knife from within the grass and pushed it back into my boot for safe keeping. My borrowed gun I realised must have still been in the house which was now ablaze. I had dropped it seconds before I had kissed Tavington. I had a shiver as I remembered that kiss, so full of passion and lust. How could he have not wanted it.

But at that moment I had more pressing things on my mind. After 9 long months of being held captive, I had a family waiting not 500 yards away, and I was desperate to see them, to hold them in my arms, knowing that they were finally safe.

Gabriel and I started walking up from within the trees. The plantation was now fully ignited. The white columns that held up the front balcony gave an almighty shudder and collapsed into the house. I could feel the heat off the fire warming my face. Lying in the grass not too far away was Major Borden, still unconscious, but looking like he was sleeping peacefully. All I remember was a flash of silver before Borden collapsed.

"Gabriel," I asked "What was it you hit the Major with?"

Gabriel looked from Borden to me, and said in a cool, calm voice "Aunt Charlotte's silver candle stick holder!"


End file.
